Ill Timing
by maleV
Summary: Finn One-shots all put together. Or if you want, read them as a story. Rated M for safety. Hinted ChrisxPiers
1. Ill Fated

Finn worked up his guts again, swallowing down the last of his coffee and braced himself to rise from his chair with determination that he'd built up over the last hour of watching and gaining confidence. He'd spent the last hour listening to the only sound in the room. The soft, labored breathing from between pouted, partly agape lips. Lips that were usually only ever made for spouting off ten thousand insults and directions. Essentially sharp, hazel eyes were shut for the passed sixty minutes, giving the explosives expert the first unfettered long look at the key sniper of the Special Operations Unit he had ever had the pleasure to enjoy. He couldn't help liking Piers. He knew it was wrong. After all, A.T.L. Nivans was in charge. Okay, that might have led to some of it, Finn did like how brave he was; and how... off limits he was... But that didn't make it any less hard to not stammer and stumble over his words whenever Piers turned those enchanting golden flecked eyes his way; full of doubt and discouragement. It didn't matter how many times he was scolded, or the wrong thing came out of his mouth, he couldn't help repeating the stupidity every time because honestly, who could keep their cool when a man like that held you in their cross hairs? And those pillowy velvet lips. Sure, most the time they were spouting off obscenities over how completely useless Finn was, but that was because the agent couldn't function whenever his commanding officer was near. That was why it was such a reprieve to be able to stare at him so prolonged without having his entire team making mockery of it. Blinking his own sea-green eyes as he watched in a dreamy haze over their second-in-command, who grimaced in his sleep once before its deepness took him once again. If anyone else knew, not that he wasn't making it painfully obvious, but if anyone else knew on this team, he would be ridiculed to death. His shame wouldn't be able to be buried within the Venezuela sink hole. And that's if his team mates even allowed him a proper burial after they skinned him alive for displaying any kind of emotion toward another man but camaraderie, that included the A.T.L. as well.

Normally Piers would have given him a thousand reasons with his boot heel to get his ass off that leather padded chair and back into the field, but for the first time since becoming one with Alpha Unit, he couldn't. He didn't know when it started, his crush on the only unattainable man in the unit; but it ever since it seemed he searched for every reason to be beside him. And Piers searched for every reason to boot him from the team. The sniper had been sleeping peacefully on the 'rec' room couch for a great deal of time, though Finn had only been present for one of them. They'd been mid-drill when Piers turned on a heel and feel to his knees, throwing up very nearly on the captain's boots. A short explanation later and an attempt to rejoin his unit got him given only one warning from Captain Chris Redfield that if he didn't go sleep it off in their multi-purpose room then he'd make him eat that vomit. He'd been fine as of 2200 hours last night from what Finn could remember as they left the training facility last night, but according to their captain, the A.T.L. had to his great chagrin, caught the flu. The flu of all things. To bring down a man like that. And yet, not screaming, yelling, or preforming every duty for every soldier until it was right, Piers managed to look soft here. His well muscled arm was propped beneath his head, nestled into the crook of it, with sleepy lids closed comfortably and his legs sprawled out behind him, lounging on his stomach in half his tactical gear. The other half was thrown over the back of the couch, his flak, and uniform regulation top, all the utility belts and rigging. It left him there, splayed out in nothing but an out of place wife beater, that revealed too much of that lean muscled back, and fatigues that refused to hug his hips tight enough and instead had slid downward over the hour to reveal the elastic band of tan boxer briefs. Even his boots had been thrown to the side. It was so uncharacteristically strange to see this usually hardened man so at ease. His soft breaths were still the center of attention to Finn. Soft breathing that hitched whenever his stomach threatened to wake him and he'd roll in on himself, hugging the cushion.

Finn had been working up the courage for over a month to ask Piers just anything. Something simple. Instead stupid things would always come out of his mouth. Stupid things like: "Is he always this cool?" He wasn't even talking about captain Redfield, but he was so damn stricken over having poisonous fingertips near him, close enough to touch him, that he lost all his coordination and said all the wrong things. Or the time that Agent Airhart asked Finn if Piers had a bug up his ass, and Finn answered with, 'Something should be.' Of course his team took it as Finn just joining in, in an awkward, gay way, but it couldn't be further from the truth. At least... the gay part was right; other than that the brunette hated when the rest of the team would talk smack about their trainer. That was one of those things though. Gay. It was off limits. Men in the military, on Alpha team in particular, were NOT allowed to be homosexual. They hada team full of homophobics and A-list assholes. People like Andy Walker and Ben Airhart, who would eat little Finn MacCauley for breakfast if they knew he enjoyed the physicality of their stronger sex to the curvy round... overly soft parts of a woman. Not that Finn hadn't been with a woman before... well no he hadn't, but he knew. Women weren't Piers. His team mates liked to chide him for never having 'popped his cherry' with a hooker. But Finn wasn't like that. He was a virgin, and he was proud to be one. He didn't waste it on someone he knew he wouldn't want to be with. They could make fun all they wanted, he wouldn't be embarrassed over that. Not that he didn't turn crimson at the thought of Piers far more experienced, knowing hands leading him if they were ever going to get that close. There were tons of rumors that got thrown around about that too. That Piers Nivans never went home alone. It was a strange thing to say, considering the second to none sniper, was never seen with anyone but the one eyed lover he shouldered in the field.

But the second issue was even more difficult than that one. It was Piers freaking Nivans! The reason for every sore foot, late night, broken bone, and bruised ego on the team. The man who took the most ridicule and cuss word on the team. Yeah, he sucked it all up and spat it out at every one of them, but that was the point. Forget talking to Piers, let alone dating the man, he couldn't even imagine the implication that would fly with fury throughout the organization if anyone found out he actually had nerve to ask him out. Everyone would talk. Hell if he stared to long at Piers people started riding him. Walker liked to imply that Piers had to be gay because whoever partnered for captain Redfield had to be use to getting a good fuck up the ass. Then there was that whole lewd bet going on through the other teams and their's that Piers was just waiting for one of the boys to take him for a ride to get the stick out of his ass and replace it with something hard and firm. At the moment Andy was betting on himself to be the one to do it. They just liked pressing his buttons, even if Piers didn't give a shit. Finn hated when they talked like that. Seeing Piers like this, it was only obvious that he wasn't the same hard ass all the time. He did that to teach them, even if other people couldn't quite see it. Prepare them for battle. Like this though, he needed someone to take care of him too... sometimes. Maybe? He liked that Piers was so staunch and firm, all that bravery in one person. It was unnatural. He was unnatural. Unnaturally intimidating, and completely captivating.

Taking a huge breath, Finn rested his young face in the palms of his hand, elbows propped against the table top staring at the body that had broken into a cold sweat over the last few minutes. His skin was clammy and that olive hue had turned flush, a dusky red on those smooth cheeks. Gulping, Finn's fingers wound together, imagination taking hold as he considered the possibilities of kneeling beside that couch and pressing a kiss to those silky tiers. It wouldn't be tangled tongues and heated moist mouths coming apart together, or the humidity of Piers' dominating all the corners of his person. Not yet. It would be chaste, like Finn. It would be short and sweet, enough to wake him up, but not enough to cause lust to take auto-pilot. Not enough to spur experienced, well learned hands, to peel layers off skin from his own form, while they rolled up in each other and Finn would miraculously find his way to the bottom; pressed beneath hard and rough muscles and the couch cushions. His own unknowing hands would search and feel out their boundaries, search to feel through the remaining fabric that did little to hide the strength of the man pouring himself into him through their mouths. No, the kisses would be chaste. They would be delicate and feeling each other out. Not some porn video where they go zero to sixty in 2.4 seconds. And Finn would take care of him while he was lying there sick. Even though the indication of illness wasn't present visibly apart from how colored Piers' face was. It was a good color on him, a nice contrast to the warm tan color of his back where he could see goosebumps rise. Most likely from hearing Finn's depraved thoughts about kissing him and enjoying being finally let in.

He gulped again, itching his leg while thinking about how he would phrase it. 'I like you?' No, Piers Nivans would have punched his teeth through the back of his head if he woke him up with a kiss with some lame ass attempt at sputtering, 'I like you.' He needed something better. The wife beater around Piers' torso inched higher yet when he rolled on the couch, until he was lying on his back, arm thrown over his face and revealing perfectly sculpted abdominal muscles. Some trashy ass hole would have said something about those fatigues that kept riding lower. Finn would reach down and tug them up those well formed hips and recover that fine 'V' that teased unjustly down under the edge of those pants. Other people would want to see more, but Finn was okay with taking things slow. Honestly it was puppy love... No. Couldn't use that term either, that would earn him a thousand hours of routine laps and probably never hearing the end of how he was going to 'shorten his leash.' Dang it all, but Piers was so hard to approach. He lived in this own little world where only the elite few were permitted and the blue moon would rise and they would share in a smile. But for people like Finn, even like this, he was still intimidating. It took an hour, but he'd decided already he was going to do this, he wasn't going to talk himself out of it now. It was just a matter of actually saying it. So how would he phrase the words? Piers was so... physical. Words never meant much. He had to _show_ him. That's right! He'd just walk up to him, and kiss him!

Finn lurched from the chair, a proud smile on his face as the entire table shimmied from its spot and the liquids in his cup trembled, but he didn't care. Both hands banging down on the wood surface, the explosives expert shoved back and couldn't help the first measured, powerful step with this new found resolve welling up from the pits of his stomach to brighten his previously worrisome face. Before his world crashed around and Piers' eyes came wide open and he sat straight up, slid off the couch and Finn could hear from the other room as he spent whatever was left in his stomach. The cachophony of the sink running and rinsing out the taste acid from the stomach fluids that did come up passed dry heaving, Piers lingered there for a long while, only ever coming back, and rolling over the backside of the couch, never once noticing Finn before shivering. The groan from that sick battered frame was saddening. He was made a prolonged moan as he settled back into the blue cushions with his back to the rest of the room. He'd hiked up the fatigues in the washroom apparently, but the cotton wife beater was gone now, probably still on the floor of ceramic tiles. Now it was just bare back and hunched in on himself, hugging one knee to quell the tremors of pain. Once they had settled, he sprawled out once more in one roll that presented him face up with that naturally Piers expression of mingled annoyance and unhappiness in those tight knit brows and pursed lips. Finn could see those eyes still closed, huffing over the illness that dared assault his senses. Thin lips worked to toward opening, a meek squeak of a voice all he could manage...

That was until captain Redfield walked in. _THUMP! _Finn's ass hit the seat again plunking his face into his hands once again while the 'multi-purpose' room filled with the sound of Chris' heavy military boots crossing the room, once again not noticing Finn, (but did anyone?), and sat on the edge of the couch that bowed forgivingly under his weight. "You look like shit parter." Piers griped, but nodded in agreement, the younger explosives expert instantly noting the open relationship those two enjoyed. He hoped the captain respected that way Piers let him right in to that personal space he carried around him or conversation without pretenses. "I sent the boys home. You can ride 'em for it later. Way I see it you aren't getting up again except when I haul your ass home." Finn watched the retort glow in hazel eyes that snapped open upon their captain's choice to send the unit home, and instantly melted seeing that fire. He was such a fighter. "Want me to drive you home partner?"

"ehnnnnn..."

"I'll take that as a yes. Come on." Chris hooked an around around Piers and hoisted him into his feet, the sniper sagged in his arms and slipping his feet into his boots. "We'll get those things later, come on."

And still, neither of them ever once took notice of the solitary boy perched at the table, watching the captain and his second disappear out the door, leaving him alone in the room. Another chance lost... Next time MacCauley... maybe next time.

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**If this gets more than 5 reviews I'll write more FinnxPiers, otherwise this is a oneshot of oneshots.  
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	2. Surprise?

**The first of many oneshots that go in this category. Enjoy some Alpha team love!  
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**DAY 1. (RESEARCH)**

Finn grinned like a child, his hand boldly stroking the tip of his felt dry erase marker across another day of the wonderful month of March, circling the one that landed seven days from now. Everyone had something to look forward to, as a ritual, this was his. Marking off another day lived. It was important in the line of work as an agent of the B.S.A.A. that one should set goals. Upon joining the Special Operations Unit, Finn had set several. One each week. Seven days to do something he had never considered so that by the time he had reached the end of his tour with Alpha Unit, he could say not only had he served, but he'd done things that he never would have imagined. Each week it was something different. Last week, was rock climbing. Something that might eventually come in handy while working with this team, but Finn wasn't the glamorous or bold type so he hadn't considered it as an extra-curricular. He was more of a stay at home and read a good book on the weekend. The rock climbing had been brought up by a man who was in and out of Alpha, whenever they needed a good hands on guy. Ben Airhart. Nice guy. At least, when he wasn't being a complete jerk with the rest of them, ribbing they called it. He stopped and had a long talk about bucket list things, and Ben said at least everyone should try rock climbing at least once in their lives. So! Day one was research. Figuring out everything one needs to know about rock climbing and the hazards it posed. Day Two, research location. Find the perfect place meant for his particular level of expertise. In his case none. Day Three, collecting materials. Four. Practice run number one, without the cliff. Five. Make sure that his affairs were in order, in case something happened. Always have a second way out. Six. Dry run number two! And day seven. Just do it. Well he followed the same procedure for most every task he completed and as of Friday last week he'd officially climbed a rock. Proudly sharing it with Alpha team who seemed mildly impressed that Finn would be daring enough to try it, until he explained his method. Then it was everyone back to making fun of baby Macauley. Oh, well, it wasn't for them. It was for him. The week before that they were on a mission so there wasn't something, and then the week before that had been learning to fly. Captain Redfield assisted with that one, surprisingly. He was such a good captain, always supportive of Finn no matter how hard he tried to fit in and failed. Captain Redfield always made time for Finn, to talk about whatever he needed when they weren't in the field. He'd even managed to take off once and land once by the end of the week, apparently he'd been in the Air Force before this, and young Finn didn't even know. But it made for an excellent teacher.

But this week? This week was special. This week was dedicated with a single date in mind, the circled one at the end of the calendar, in big bold words. Flopping the marker down, Finn proudly gazed at it. A.T.L. Nivans' birthday. He was proud because not a man on their team knew the Special Operations Unit's keen sniper's birthday. Most just assumed it was when hell froze over because that was what the tawny haired agent exclaimed whenever asked. But Finn knew. He'd been 'incognito' picking up a friend from the bar when he was called late night, and no one noticed he was there, as always. There was shock written all over his face when he'd caught the heavy undertones of Captain Redfield a few weeks ago having drinks with his partner, and snuck in for a better listen. Creeping closer, he overheard yammering on about how huge their age difference was. Piers was drinking water, as always, but the captain was on whiskey, and rambling on about how he couldn't believe Piers was only going to be twenty five years old, though not spark of interest shown in those observant eagle like oculars. It didn't seem to surprise the sniper however that Chris seemed so interested, just hugged his cup in his hand and shrugged as though it meant little or nothing. Elbows propped on the table, glass in one hand, and cupped with the other to meet in front of his face. Then he'd heard the date. Only three weeks to wait, and now only one. So now he had a goal. Give his A.T.L. something to make his day, and finally prove that there was something there with them rather than this ongoing buffoonery that Finn mucked around whenever trying to speak in the man's vicinity. Birthdays were important. He couldn't imagine one where he didn't have cake and invite his parents to dinner, talk about and reminisce over all the great things that had happened over the year. Piers was the most solitary man he knew, but just because he liked the quiet and wasn't entirely sociable didn't mean he shouldn't have that too. So with staunch resolution, he set his goal, and slapped the locker to his gear shut, grinning ear to ear.

"What's with the heart?"

Finn's everything fell out of his hands, scattering on the ground as the locker slammed shut and he threw himself back against it, grasping at straws for air from his anxiety attack. Andy Walker stared at him with one bemused brow rose and hilarity written in his eyes as Finn worked for a quick recovery. "I, uh..., what?" Failure. A snort, arms crossed, one hand poking out to poke backhanded toward his locker, through Finn's belly where it lay hidden.

"The heart. On your calendar? You know, the one you've doodled all over with the smiley faces and shit? Don't tell me, your thirteen year old girlfriend having a date night planned for ya? Dinner and a movie before she puts your ass in the friend-zone?"

Lips puckered and drew to the side, mimicking annoyance but never really quite reaching the level alpha unit members could reach, leaning down to scoop up his things. "No. I don't have a girlfriend." A snicker from the other direction, and the explosive's expert could feel the drop of stupidity in having admitted that to a man like Walker. He didn't need a girlfriend to fit in with these guys..., but it wouldn't hurt not to blurt out his lack thereof. "Its just a special day is all. I... I have a friend." Dogtags were swept off the ground, goggles, helmet, the other random things he kept in the helmet when not wearing it: paper clips, pictures of mom and dad, his dog Sally back at home. "Birthday surprise you know?" Walker clanked against the lockers listening with a chuckle, holding out a mitt for Finn to grab, clasping it and tugging the boy to his feet clean off the floor with a hop before settling back down, hugging the helmet to his chest.

"Okay... so your 'friend," HUGE air quotes, "is turning what? What's so important?"

"Twenty-five." Finn recalled the detail as well as the reaction Piers had had to hearing it out loud, softer features pulled to tug an almost rueful smile on those full tiers, his eyes cast down into the mug in his slim fingers. It was a vulnerable expression that read almost foreign on agent Nivans. If only he could talk to Piers the way their captain seemed to be able to talk to everyone, reassure him that things would be okay. That he made it another year as one of the finest and brightest minds in the B.S.A.A. and a top-notch kind of guy. That was it! Day four and six, the practice runs. He could ask the captain how to talk with such ease to someone like Piers. At least... without pointing out that he was trying to talk to the Assistant Team Leader of Alpha squad. No one talked to agent Nivans for the fun of it. And in all honesty, Captain Redfield was pretty temperamental when it came to anyone talking to his partner outside the field. It was a possessive thing that he carried for all his old partners. Understandably so, so he would let him know just who, but ask for some pointers. As of now, constructing a conversation with the sniper consisted of interrupting him with highly trivial information whilst he worked on the range; which resulted in the same reaction every time. It was like asking to have a chat with a pitbull. Still, if the captain could sit down and talk to him on a normal basis like that night, then so could Finn. Hopefully. A fist slamming against his locker, subsequently followed by multiple snaps of middle finger to thumb jarred his thoughts again, jerking his head up to meet seabreeze eyes with annoyed blue ones. "Its kind of a surprise! You promise you won't say anything?"

"What to your friend? Are you a moron Macauley, I don't even _know_ your friends. Thank god. They're probably all puppy lovin,' tree hugging shit stains that spend nights playing Dungeons & Dragons, or who-tickled-my-anus. And I have a policy against making friends with girlscouts, the only time I wanna see that uniform is on a girl with some damned curves. But hey, I do know a thing or forty-four about throwing parties..." A suspicious brow rose, gandering the way Finn held himself in a sort of judgment that ended with a positive nod, drawing out each previous syllable. "Your 'friend,'" Another set of huge air quotes, ignoring their implication as the two started to walk in tandem. "She's turning twenty-five. Got it. Doesn't go out, and definitely not good-looking, or else she'd have better friends than you. So you've got two options ahead of you. You can do a big shindig to get her affection, maybe see some titties, or are you thinking more personal..., get some nookie for getting her all wet by knowing her favorite candle scent or some shit." Scarlet bloomed in Finn's freckled face, making them stand out more and more as heat climbed up through his neck and into his ears. Boggling the helmet in hands, Andy reached out and caught it in one mitt. Finn stumbled forward, all his thoughts jumbling as Walker brought unbidden images of their commanding officer in every compromising position imaginable. At least in Finn's wheelhouse of imaginable. A.T.L. Nivans was built like a dream, the idea of that lithe, slender compact, sweat slick body, smooth from the waist up without a shirt on made him blush furiously. The sound of his own heart thundering tremendously in his ears and making lava for the butterflies in his gut. They hadn't even kissed, how could he imagine that!? And then the two of them... doing what exactly? Tone, olive flesh, experienced calloused hands pushing him down, holding him there while they..., while they..!

"ANDY!"

Arms flew up in defense, chuckling in defiance as Finn clambered off the ground with fury in his eyes.. "WHAT?! I'm trying to help! I mean I can't tell you what maneuver to use if I don't know what kind of honey we're talking about. I mean it's about time you not be the virgin sacrifice of the team, I'm only trying to get that cherry of yours popped already! I'm sure she's at most paper bag-over-the-head doable. Let me guess, A-cup wonder named Bertha?"

"He's not a honey!"

Skeptical blue eyes flooded open, the hilarity shifting into scrutiny as soon as the word 'he' appeared to mutate in the rookie's mouth. Finn was already regretting it. Seeing how he was being prosecuted just for having a male friend, that Andy Walker instantly had assumed was a woman. And the hearts he'd drawn around the date? If rumors were started that Finn was just a man loving homo, then his career would be over, and Alpha team would drop him in a heart beat. Just before he was ridiculed and stoned by all the men he'd shared a locker room with, or anything like the matter. It was over. The world was over, and his last moment were going to be face to face with Andy, his teeth being pushed down the back of his throat as a slow motion fist hurtled into his face and broke all his incisors.

"Score him a hooker, greenhorn!" Eyes opened, shock overcoming him as he realized he was still in Walker's face, wincing as he waited for the blow that never came. Tooth loaded, benign grin shown wider than the Titanic going down in Finn's mind's eye, eyes finally widening as he looked higher up to see satisfaction on the gruff countenance of the man who was suppose to be ridiculing him. "You got a guy who probably doesn't remember his birthdays because they are lame as shit. You get him loaded, whatever his favorite drinks are-being your friend, probably some pussy shit, but fuck it. Throw an arm around his shoulder, and shout happy birthday as a pair of funbags comes flopping out the top of a cake made entirely of icing. Those bad boys will BOUNCE, I'm telling you. Preferably a hooker with fake ones, they never sag, but this will probably be your first time, too, so kill two birds with one stone and actually be able to describe what a titty feels like. Ugh, ain't nothing like sucking frosting off a pair of 'D's. that's a birthday to remember. And hey, you won't have to buy icecream neither. Just stick your tongue up inside and she'll give you everything you- Finn?" Andy's big dumb eyes were yet looking around from his aerial display of what he'd do with a real pair breasts to find Finn had burst into a run.

**Day 2. (LOCATION)**

A litany of useless cardstock sat complacent across the table of the 'multi-purpose' room, provided to Alpha team at Head Quarters. He had already spent a few minutes here, staring at the same list of bad menus that were likely to get anyone invited sick from the poor sanity conditions provided by a wait staff that likely was only really serving some variation on Asian Bird Flu. Of course the recollection of flu brought his eyes continually back to the blue crush sofa in the middle of the room, where he'd once had the chance to observe their Assistant Team Leader under less than ordinary circumstances. He'd had the flu, but it didn't make it any easy to look at him. All splayed out with his eyes closed over without a shred of stress on his face but for the tremors of sick that flooded his fine smooth countenance. Huffing, Finn shoved away the thought in return for the twenty odd chinese joints that everyone seemed to prefer. He hated Chinese. How was he suppose to find a suitably clean place that wouldn't sound utterly helpless when offering his unsuspecting team leader out for something to eat. Nudging them about he smiled, tugging up the single Irish Pub menu from a place he'd heard of downtown. Suppose to be nice. Shoving open the card flaps, pictures were examined and food considered. A wide array of delicious hearty food. Good for a soldier. And the atmosphere wasn't too over the top. The captain once said that you could get any member of Alpha team off base if you were offering to buy rounds. But then the subject of his affection wasn't a drinker. Even a the bars. And you couldn't very well present a cake, or... any kind of celebratory present at a bar. This was more than a bar though, and less than a fancy restaurant. Yup! This would do it; Reiley's Olde Time Pub.

THUD!

"Man he's killing me out there you know that? Every fuckin' time. It's a half an inch! Half an inch and that little whore can't freakin' cut me some slack."

Thud!

"Yeah well, that's what happens when you've got a rod so far up your ass you could see it if he fucking yawned."

Ben glanced up at Finn, casting a half salute and looking at the menus with disinterest, firmly slapping Walker on the shoulder as they both threw their feet up on the corners of he table, hefty soled boots pounding downward and sending a tremor up Finn's arms to drop his selected premier location to flutter to the ground. "Looking for a place to grab some grub MacCauley? I could freaking use it. How on earth that guy got to be such a thorn in my side I have no idea. He's three years younger and I swear he acts more ridiculous than the captain does if you touch his good whiskey. I don't know how you take his bullshit day after day Finn."

"Uh... wh-" He knew who, but he didn't want this, or to join them in their underestimation of the rules that their team abide by. No doubt they were just show boating again and Piers had called them on it.

"Nivans! You know, agent fucking field sniper Nivans! Who seems to think every person on the team should be able to put a pin prick hole in a target's eye, MOVING, from 50 yards with an assault rifle. Oh and if you don't fucking make the shot, by half a caterpillar's ASS, you have to spent four hours straight doing target practice with him over your shoulder the entire time. Like I want to be butt fucked all freaking afternoon by his sniper rifle. I don't USE a sniper rifle! Its an ASSAULT RIFLE! You load um up with the shit, not single shoot it through the left eye like that whiny-

"HI CAPTAIN!"

**Day 3. (GIFT IDEA?)**

"Hey agent?"

"What Macauley?" Three rounds rang out, booming off the walls of standard B.S.A.A. restricted zoning. Diligent hands sliding like a lover's caress, purposefully wasting no energy, but smooth. Almost graceful, as shell casings came free, others replacing them with just a push of rough gunner's gloves on their ends, nudged into place. It was a pleasure getting to watch such perfected talent. Finn rarely got a chance to see their A.T.L. in his own routine. Most often than like he was always helping others to sharpen their skills, and yet no one ever spent time wondering when Piers learned to be as good as he was. It was because the tawny haired sniper waited until he was alone. Which was the hours where everyone else went drinking. With all the responsibilities that were involved in his position, a lot of people considered their assistant team leader, to actually be a captain, but then, those people had never met Captain Redfield. Finn had waited most the day to get to see the hazel eyed young man without the pressures of his duties, and to his surprise, it meant he waited the entire day, until literally eleven at night. He was there before everyone else. Incredibly detailed and effective, training others from dawn until dusk. It was no wonder he was upset this evening though. For the last hour or the captain had been reaming him in his office over some mistake. Finn found it hard to believe that such a vigilant made such mistakes. Still the captain didn't call people into his office unless he meant for it to be a private discussion. No one went near that room for the last hour. It seemed they were at each other's throats more than usual lately. Piers had a tendency to second guess his captain's field choices, but it had been getting him into trouble more lately. Always winding up with them yelling at one another. At least the captain had the courtesy to make sure they did it behind closed doors. Pulling the trigger on his M4 that blew a hole through the head of the guy he wasn't even looking at. He was so talented. Piers really did deserve a break from all of this. "I haven't got all day Macauley. You've got five seconds before I turn this into a Anne Oakley routine, and intentionally miss. Understand?" Piercing eyes shot over tan regulation uniform, broad shoulders hunched over his weapon, but still visible slice of color from Piers' irises as he caught Finn's stare.

Captivating eyes made Finn's mouth go dry, looking at the conviction behind his stare. Even his threats held the same amount of command as his actions in the field. Finn knew the other side though. He'd seen it from time to time whenever he and the captain would sit down after a long day ad just unwind. Or when he'd come by to pick up some things on extended leave and the young sniper had been listening to music, and fiddling with his beater vehicle in the bunker. Even he let loose sometimes. It was just getting him to admit it to the people who tried hard to debunk his authority. Like Andy, or Ben. He had a lot to live up to with the responsibilities he had. Finn just wanted to help, but those piercing eyes, he couldn't even form a straight sentence, and impatience growing as the minisuns on the range flickered on. "What do you like to do?"

"Excuse me?"

"In your... spare," knit brows, "time?" _Click. _"I'm SORRY!"

**DAY 4. (DRY RUN #1)**

Inept fingers wrung together in such a knot that gunner gloves wrung together tightly creaking at the strain. Suspense rising, bubbled in Finn's chest until antacids felt necessary. Swirling in the suspended chair in the captain's office, he swirled once around again, trying to relax. When he'd asked the captain if he would have a talk with him, 'non-work related,' the man who was ever supportive gave him a pat on the shoulder and a time to meet him after his meeting was over. He was on the way in to speak with a old friend, an ex-partner of his that he was still close with. Sure the week had bee kind of rough. His usual planning was a little... off track. But it seemed like everyone wanted to get in the way of his plans. First with Andy making all those lewd suggestions. He hadn't been able to do anything but feel revolted over what that man considered a tactful party idea. It had however, helped make it easier to decide that Piers wasn't really the party type. More of a casual setting kind of man. He preferred an intimate setting where they could be... honest. If maybe he had come up with the guts to actually say how he felt. The after that, listening to his friends all talking that way about Piers. So lewd. But after having his dinner menus all crunched up by Walker and Airhart's boots, the young explosive expert decided dinner might be a bit much too. Piers wasn't a sit down type. He liked to constantly be moving, and if he wasn't then he wanted to be settled in his own space. So it was better if he could just come to him whilst the others were out drinking. That wold give them a casual setting and it wouldn't make either of them have an pretense to be... anyone but themselves. As far as what to get him... well that was getting ridiculously difficult. What do you get a guy that won't share anything of himself, and spends all his time at the range? Something... something personal. But something that wasn't like everything else he had. Who wants to get the same things they already had? So the plans were kind of difficult, but it was always hard trying to figure out exactly anything when it happened to come to anything personal on this team. BUT! Working on his conversational skills was still on track. Whenever something involved the captain it was... twenty minutes late?

The creaking of the office door handle turning caused a thunder in Finn's chest, seabreeze eyes bulging out of his head as the door flung open, Chris shoving the door open with his large muscled back, mid laugh as hand had gripped the edge of the door, sniper and captain both practically falling in on one another, both chuckling over something or another that ended immediately. Fury flashing in the captain's eyes gave testament to his hot temper, before rubbing a hand of annoyance through his scruff, nodding at the door. "Another time Macauley."

"I uh..."

Laughter still hid behind the younger soldier's eyes, releasing the door Chris had leaned up against and let it slam until it hyper extended, tumbling him back with it proving just how strong the strained bicep that had been supporting holding up that portal really was. "I've got to alert the team anyway captain. I'll see you on the chopper in an hour." Chris grit his teeth clearly, but nodded, watching the sniper turn on his heel and go before brushing down all his uniform with a grunt, passing his huge mitt over the rest of himself to temper down the fabric that had become out of place by the stumble. It was still interesting seeing their interactions, Finn couldn't help his dopey smile at seeing captain and his partner sharing a conversation that way, rubbing the back of his head whilst waiting for Captain Redfield. The man moved slowly, throwing himself behind his desk slathered in paperwork that he scorned so, reaching to clutch a stack of files which looked tiny within his brawny fingers, straightening the papers by patting them against the desktop with a hard pound before setting them back down.

"All right, Finn. What can I do for you?"

"We have a mission captain?"

"Looks that way. H.Q. called on us to go out on a bug hunt. Some military coup holding a sample of 'T' looking to weaponize it to gain power, as if 'T' wasn't weaponized enough. It'll all be covered in the debriefing before we set out. This isn't the time to shoot the breeze, Macauley, so unless you have something constructive to say, I'd suggest getting yourself geared up and hustle."

"How do you talk to him?" The explosive's expert dropped his head unintentionally, rising from his seat immediately as heat rose to his fuller face and swallowing down his upset. "No captain, uh never mind, I..." Who knew how long this mission would last. No way it would be over in hours... days. By the time they'd get home his chance would be gone, and another birthday would go by with thinking of Piers just passing his life by. So odd. It shouldn't have bothered him. He spent his own on a mission, made up for it later. Maybe he could do something for him then... but then the captain was staring at Finn with a grin on his face that he hadn't expected in the least. Like he'd made a joke and somehow he'd missed it. Or if he was wearing a pair of bunny ears, or a red squeaky nose. Stifling laughter, the captain wiped a hand across his face, trying to hide his lop-sided smile the best he could.

"You mean Piers?"

"I... uh...," defeated. "Yes."

"You want to know how a commanding officer talks to his partner?" Enlightenment seemed to glitter in the captain's dark brown eyes, getting up after finding his side arm in the drawer without looking, slapping an arm around Finn in a way he'd seen from the other team mates in alpha. Camaraderie. It felt good. Chris ushered the younger man with ease from the room, walking with him in tandem, huge shoulders towering over the smaller form of his agents while they moved together. "Finn... Let me make it easier for you to understand. Have you ever seen agent Nivans talk with anyone on Alpha team? Apart from me. Just talk to them?"

"Uh... no?"

"Exactly. Apart from me. He doesn't just talk to any of you. It's because he's your commanding officer."

"Well so are you captain... but you're always so... great. You know, understanding. I thought maybe, if I could just... talk to him. Without saying something stupid. I could explain why I keep messing up in the field. I mean not messing up, but I never say the right thing. I don't want him to think I'm incompetent."

"Finn, Agent Nivans holds a justified belief that everyone is incompetent. Don't bother trying to change his mind, kid. And don't worry about what he thinks of you. So long as you're doing what's asked of you, there is no reason for him to ride you like the others. It's a defense trigger. When you've worked as hard as he has to get where he is, you get an edge. It's his duty. You know why I hand-picked Piers as my partner? Not just because he's a soldier tough as nails, he keeps you all in line. Understand that we're not standard service, this isn't the place to look for friends. The day you make captain, then you can try talking with agent Nivans however you want, but until then? It's best you let him be. Prove yourself in the field, so soldiers eventually give a shit what you think of off the field, then notice you. Got it, rookie?" A resounding smack collided with the agent's back, flinging him forward into the locker room with no real effort, a silly lopsided, yet mildly understanding grin on his captain's face. "Lock and load. Don't worry about Piers. Head out of your ass and in the now. I'll see you out there."

**DAY SEVEN. (JUST DO IT!)**

Sweat slathered and exhausted, Alpha team trudged, abused from effort over the last 58 hour mission, consisting mostly of running. Each man jack of them were torn to pieces, falling like dominoes into the Blackhawk that was sent over enemy lines to come get them. Mission accomplished, that was all that mattered, that and that at the end of this chopper lift was beds waiting for them. Most of them didn't need beds though, Airhart was unconscious as he hit the deck, gear and all. Half his things were askew, goggles hanging off the side of his head, with one eye peering out, heavy lids yanked down as the rhythmic hum of chopper blades lifting off rocked him to sleep. Walker tossed his AR to the corner, feet up on his partner's knee, Marco Rose, who shoved them promptly off him in turn to cover his face with the helmet on his head, slumping like a dead animal up against Airhart, shoulder to shoulder. The captain was the last one on, locking fingers with Finn to help him up in with a shove. Landing him beside Andy; complaining about how the funk of a team of all men, all in need of a shower really dragged. Piers was right behind him, one hand on the captain's shoulder, the other coddling his rifle to the firm joint it never left for the last few days, hoisted up with a shove before he captain joined them. They sat back to back, always did. That was it wasn't awkward when one or both fell asleep leaned up against the other's back. A job well done. No surprise over the last days that Finn had been far too busy with his mission, doing exactly what the captain said and taking it all to heart. Do your job and he wouldn't need to explain himself to anyone, and saving lives. That was the important part. Gandering down at his watch, Finn sighed unhappily. Four hours and officially he would have lost his chance. He should have been happy. Should have been thrilled everyone made it out alive and despite baking to death in that infernal sauna and being completely wasted to the point where no one could lift another arm if they had been forced too... he wasn't.

He sighed, unable to keep from glancing at the way Piers lulled his head back against Chris' mountainous shoulder, and the captain gave him a lethargically weighted pat on his own slim one's, by comparison. They shared everything. And Finn couldn't even manage a happy birthday to the guy. He'd taken all his information to heart, but still there was nothing. He'd failed yet again to find a way in. It didn't matter... why should it. Piers wouldn't know the difference, just go on living. And the captain was right... he was incompetent. He didn't deserve to do this if he couldn't even manage to speak without blurting it out in front of everyone, when clearly he didn't even want their Captain to know the truth. Why did he have to be such a secretive person? Honestly though, there was a high likelihood that Finn wouldn't have liked him as much if he wore himself on his sleeve. And then it didn't help he could tell anyone about it. Their team was made up of men's men. People who were not comfortable with the idea of a homo in their midst. He didn't even know how Piers felt about it. Every man on the team talked about their special person. Andy talked about his many hookers, and still was chattering on about this one that he intended on seeing as soon as they got stateside. Named Pearl, who liked to wear nothing but. Marco, who had his wife and kids back at home, all of whom he was constantly complaining about supporting. Ben liked to have the occasional night out with whoever he paid for, but there was a girlfriend here and there. The captain was seeing Captain Valentine. At least that was the rumor. And Piers? Piers never said or was seen with anyone but his rifle. His beautiful blushing bride as Andy referred to it. Other than that, nothing. Everyone else was always boasting stories of conquest. It made him happy to think that his object of affection wasn't interested in trivial matters, but at least once he would have liked to have seen some interest in the the conversation to have at least added to it enough to decide if he was wasting his time. Didn't matter now though. Now he was just staring at his thumbs and snorting over the fact that he had successfully made it through another mission, for naught.

He could feel time slipping away, Andy's snores soon joining the others as they caught some well deserved rest, even though if it was fitful for some. One hour after another until finally he had worked up the courage. It was just them there. Nothing to stop him form speaking his mind, and the captain told him to let his actions speak louder than words. Stiffening jaw, Finn's lips quivered as he peeled them open, his tongue fat against the roof of his mouth, whilst swallowing down all the fear he could and parading through it. "Ahem!" Too loud! Both captain and his partner turned their heads simultaneously, giving Finn the same dubious looks. Chris' brow was raised, whilst Piers' sculpted ones were knit together, waiting for him to continue before tilting his head back once more, about to speak again when bravery, or stupidity reared its ugly head once more. "Agent Nivans?" He heard the exasperated huff, sharp eyes shifting to catch him, even if he never moved his head, hearing a softer chuckle from the captain, who looked away from the scene. "I... uh..., I just wanted to say..."

"Out with it Macauley, I've had a long night."

Fine features etched annoyance, and for a brief moment he considered not saying a single thing. Just letting it go like it seemed everyone else wanted him to. Instead he huffed, AR across his lap, drumming his fingers. Sucking in a lip before stomping a foot and looking up determined, ignoring the hilarity of the situation as he blurted it straight out like a bark of an animal. "Happy birthday Piers." As soon as the words were out, Chris' head snapped to the side, realization hitting him over why Finn suddenly had the hankering to talk to his commanding officer, before looking between the two. Finn staring at his hands hoping not to get hit, whilst his partner had sit up straight like a rigid pole had been crammed down along his spine, eyes fixed on the younger man. If he didn't know the man so well he would have said he was pissed, but he saw the fair dusky hue on his face before it was suppressed away again. From the look on Finn's face, he saw it too, along with the half stutter that escaped pouted lips before the soldier forced himself to look away. Chris made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, nudging the sniper against his shoulder and turning to face the rookie. "I... just thought. I mean..., I wanted you to know I cared. I was going to get you a-"

"Look at that Nivans, you've got a sleuth on our team. Took me a year to figure out your birthday and I had a damn file to work with. Here I thought I was going to give you a surprise when I finally came out with it."

"Its not a big deal rookie. I appreciate it, but its just another day."

"Don't go and downplay the event, Piers, the kid went out of his way to say it fresh off a mission." Chris chuckled from the depths of his chest, all three now facing each other, Chris shoulder to shoulder with Piers, ribbing his with a thick, flexed elbow while the sniper never bothered to dodge, just cough over, rubbing the back of his neck. Casting the captain a side long glance before looking to Finn, a slight smile in place, one that Finn had never bear witness to when presented to himself. Finn was starting to stutter and speak again but he was cut off when a burly hand ruffed slicked longer bangs of his partner, mussing them out of place as the strands caught on his gunner's gloves. "Better time as any I guess to tell you I got you a gift Nivans. Soon as we get back it's waiting for you. I planned to have a few days off for you to bring it with on our next mission, but seeing as in an hour it won't be your birthday anymore, nows as good a time as any." Finn gawked at the half laugh that emit from full tiers, and how musical it was when the captain made sure to grip those same locks in his tight fist, curling them back into a haphazard version of the position they'd once held to, giving an almost unnoticeable tug. "Hope you aren't too attached to that AR of yours. I know Special Operations Unit has regulation weaponry, but I had them make an exception for you. Can't have you running amok making all this custom shit for something they were never going to let you use."

Hazel eyes lit up instantly, fatigue wearing off in an instant. Suddenly his ideas seemed so small. Even his simple happy birthday hadn't seemed so good, but the captain, whatever he'd done... "You are kidding right captain? I've requested B.S.A.A. clearance for a year!"

"Yeah well, I made the goddamn B.S.A.A., rules don't apply to me. Got your back partner."

Something passed between them, a smile that Piers couldn't or wouldn't hide before looking up to the rookie, his shoulders hunched and elbows rested on his knees before leaning forward, his fingers catching Finn's face with a single pat to the cheek. "Appreciate it rookie..." Finn blushed instinctively, nodding happily, and suddenly nothing else seemed to matter but the brief contact and the words of respect. "But the next time you listen in on a conversation with me and I'll put a round through each of your pretty green eyes. Understand?" Finn flushed, nodding furiously as a second pat followed the first, the partners giving a chuckle as Chris gave Finn a swat on the leg for a job well done, both leaning back up against each other while the sniper raised his hands in a position like he were ghosting a rifle, a smirk on his face completely unhidden. Finn struggled to breath with how his face heated up along with the rest of his body, watching him without fear for the rest of the hour, admiring. One step closer.


	3. Rock On

**Rock On**

Drops of heated dew fell in quick succession over slim shoulders. Formed, though he was not completely built as other men in their outfit seemed, they were still muscled and strong, forearms scrunched over the back of his head whilst fingertips massaged. Citrus Lime and Ginseng. The scent coiled round in the heated humidity that drooled down the clear walls of the show stall, fogged by the heat, burning pale skin red. Finn hummed, pleased as the drops of rain drummed on to the rhythm of the small stereo playing in the background, tiny speakers squealing on over the thrum with a tune that had been all too catchy over the last few months that he couldn't help opening his mouth in the solitude of B.S.A.A.'s, S.O.U. Headquarter's locker room. Ceramic tiles squeaked under calloused, dirty feet in accordance as a small spin with arms raised. "My first love broke my heart for the first time! And I was like... Baby, baby, baby! Oh!" Such a stupid song to get stuck in his head, but after the last bit of leave that Alpha team was permitted Finn had finally had some off-time to see the parents, his sister. Younger. Penny was just a teenager, but Finn still felt bad about leaving from home to have him by himself without a brother to look out for him. But the family needed this, they wouldn't know all the real details, to that he just had to tell the truth and let them know it was confidential. He couldn't lie to mom and dad. Not with the bullshit that the B.S.A.A. came up with as cover stories for what they really did for a living. So instead, he told them he worked for a special task force branch of the government, alongside a team of first rate men working to save the world; AND! he couldn't talk about. Then Finn spent the rest of his remaining time catching up with Penny. That included this weird mix CD the little miss gave him as a departure gift. Another spin, "Like baby, baby, baby oooh! I thought you'd always be mine."

Water drained into the corners of his mouth from the faucet, gargling as a glob of spit hit the wall from the overload of liquids. Dancing in a circle, fingers gripped the nearest soap bar, bubbles foaming over pale skin while tucking the bar up under his pits. A nice soapy lather built up over his pectorals and abdominal muscles, working his way downward. Penny's face was all aglow when Finn first sat down with her and pondered over the lyrics to this silly song and tried learning it. He'd do anything for his sister. Even learn the lyrics to a goofy song, just to please her bright shining eye. The only thing it could possibly do of any consequence, was that it pleased the smaller version of himself. And Penny deserved that in a brother. The smile that she gave him was akin to what he imagined his own daughter might look like someday. If he were ever fortunate enough to have one. Anyway, it didn't matter. When he'd left on Sunday night and got on that plane, again, her big round eyes whilst hugging his leg begged him to take her gift in hopes that it would always be something they shared. A cute mix CD. People didn't use CD's anymore. They'd moved on, the 'in' crowds anyway. But if there was anything a Macauley knew how to do, it was to be part of the OUT crowd. He never fit in either, so the fact his sister wanted him to have a homemade CD rather than some digitized ear bud listening device with a thousand songs that meant nothing between them… He'd rather rock out to this. Or whatever hip kind of music they could come up with. All the better. This meant something to them personally. Hard day of training deserved some well-deserved relaxation and a good reminder as to why he did what he did. The constant stream of falling water, cleaned away the layer of suds worked up over dog-tired biceps and triceps. "And I'm like, Baby, baby, baby, oooh! Like baby, baby-

"Baby NO!"

Oh God… No was right. Laughter filtered in to the room; echoed by Andy Walker's tone deaf, sarcastic crooning; soap bar squirt out of trained grasping fingers, plopping to the ground with a noiseless squish. "Fuck a duck, Macauley! What is this Disney shit?! Are you serenading me? I graduated high school while you were still getting a handy from your mother after grade school. I mean, seriously?!" Three clicks and then the music was off except for three sets of heavy boot falls, thumping round the boom box. Stealing away the CD from its poised position in the player, flipping it between fingers like a spiral. That was while Finn struggled with his cowardice; slipping up on the cold stone beneath his feet, sending a chill up his spine, to remove his last remaining soap bubbles. "Did backstreet boy's girlfriend take a hike while we were on spring break or some shit? Before you even got to propose on your bony ass knee? Was it another man stickin' her with his pinky-sized sausage, and you caught 'em under your Star Wars sheets? Oh, oh, no! I've got it. You would've taken her back even after that. No, you're the loving, _understannndding_ type, permanently stuck in the friend-zone like a damned shoulder to cry on. It would have to be something real nasty." With the last bubble gone, Finn grimaced, hearing the raucous laughter, while the others shared disgusting stories about what it was that his girl was probably back home doing, made louder when he shut off the jet stream. Yeah, some girl. There was only one particular thing he thought about when he had the spare time to even do that, and it wasn't about- "Leaned her over in the back alley and porked her double time!"

Faucet shut off, Finn sought out the comfort of his towel, since there was no thing as privacy in this day and age. Particularly not so, in the locker room of men with no morals. Throwing open the shower stall, bright red coverlet in hands, plush against his even brighter face. Fluffy cotton against his fleshy contours covered his shame at being trodden in upon, but it allowed for a role call that was immediately in play. Hiding himself behind long draping bath towels, though no one was interested in looking at the object of their ridicule. Andy Walker, hands on his CD, spinning it round like a top, dancing like his fourteen year old sister, only making it look like some perverted mock. Ben Airhart to his right, singing into a hairbrush like a cowboy yokel whilst peeling away his own layers of sweat soaked battle gear, starting at the top. And the third pair of footfalls had been? Oh God… "Why me…?" Finn's mumbling went unheard as his crew of emotion lacking duo went about singing versions of messed up lyrics, to get a rise. Trying to hide his embarrassment from the man who walked by them with a raised brow and turned down pouted lips; Finn gave a teensy wave of his free hand, the other wound up in his towel to hide more important parts. Why did it have to be Piers? Of all people it could have been: Captain Redfield, Marco Rose, any one of the trainees that gave him no respect; it had to be the one person that he actually gave a damn about seeing him listening to a teenage pop sensation. But shouldn't people like you for who you are? They shouldn't care if Finn's little sister was a Belieber. It was a craze, all the little girls liked him, and so, there wasn't a reason that he couldn't enjoy something like that with his sister. And Piers, he shouldn't care. He never cared, about anything but the mission, and what was to come next. So… this shouldn't be on the whole, completely embarrassing right?

"And all the girlies say I'm pretty fly for a white guy! He needs some cool tunes, not just any will suffice-

"Are you two..., singing The Offspring at Macauley?"

"Captain!" Finn's voice hitched and the room almost went quiet, apart from the silent snicker from the other side of the room, from Piers' fleeting back. Of course he found it amusing, even the rest of the team was staring in shock over the fact that stuffed shirt captain Redfield knew the name of the band they were chanting at the rookie. Quickly recovering, the towel found its way wrapped around Finn's slim waist, pleased to know at least one of their team mates had left the room for a little bit of peace. The captain, on the other hand merely stood, large mitts in fists, crossed over his massive chest like some imposing giant. "I was just finishing up. I'll go"

"It's fine rookie. Don't have to scamper off every time these goddamn idiots give you shit, stand your ground. First time someone walked in on me singing in the shower wasn't much different. Apart from the obvious being, I'm the motherfucking captain. Don't look so shocked kid, and hold up your towel. Hell, Walker here?" thumb over his shoulder at Andy, who froze instantly at the sound of his own name in any implication, like a mouse caught sneaking cheese, "was caught singing Ceelo Green. Something about some girl driving off with another man right?"

"It was, ah.. called, Fuck You, captain."

"No. It was called, if you ever say those goddamn words to me again, I'll play you with a riot shotgun. You are completely tone deaf, Walker, and to my recollection, sang the music parts and forgot most the lyrics. Who forgets the three goddamn words in that chorus? And another thing..., why do all of you stupid shits listen to the worst garbage on the planet? Have none of you listened to real music in your entire lives?" Finn tried not to snicker over the strange automated defense the captain had for him. It was always nice having someone stick up for you, and someone to remind the remainder of your team that they were once in the same position as the rookie explosive's expert. It wasn't like he man had to say anything or speak up for him, or that it was completely helpful at times; but it was still a nice sentiment. A thud of a combat boot to the ground as Airhart moved on to stripping off his socks, without embarrassment of who saw the junk he sported, and Finn was off. He was hiding a faded bit of blush; a result of the hero worship he felt for the man that seemed completely flawless. Redfield, not Airhart. It was so wrong that one person should seem so great, but Captain Redfield really was the kind of guy you could always depend on. "Oh and then there was Rose's cowboy days. Didn't he stroll through here once singing, Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy? This is the S.O.U., not the goddamned Village People." A round of laughter went up, and the remaining tension melted away. Mental tension that was, because the physical tension of being a homosexual male in a shower room full of striping men.., that was mounting quickly. You haven't seen triceps until you've seen Chris Redfield's, and that's if you could see passed the nose bleed worthy pectoral muscles he sported like none other. Or the mountainous shoulders. It was easy to see why Ms. Valentine always seemed so pleased with herself whenever they were near. With his captain and the rest of their team seemingly delved into a conversation that went into perimeters of their sexual conquests in song, yet again, Finn felt it time to remove himself from the equation.

Sneaking out in the midst of conversation, no one noticed as Finn slunk away to his locker. Lurching metal coming open, he immediately was at jerking on a navy blue button up, one arm after the other. It clung to his still damp skin, darkening in the junctions of his elbows from the excessive drops of unclaimed water; and about his collar, and hair line, drops falling on the fabric sucked up in the fibers. Lining up the opposing sides of his shirt, each cream colored button found its slot, one at a time until they lined halfway up, stopping at the realization that he'd forgotten an undershirt. Working back down until his shirt hung open, and flung the sleeves off, which shed like cobra's skin, he went in search of the nice white undershirt his mom had bought him Saturday afternoon. She liked getting him things, even though they didn't have much. Her 'valiant boy…' Searching in the quiet, hearing laughter from the other room, he clinked about inside the confines of his locker, searching in vain for the new shirt, and then his duffel. Pleased, he yoinked it free with a victorious snatch, hoisting the shirt on high. Grasped in a tight fist, a pleased grin worked on his features, tugging the shirt over his head and adjusting properly, noting how it fit him with perfect precision. His mom with her always sharp eye for dressing her kids. Thankfully, the residue from his first encounter with donning wet clothing was no longer present thanks to the constant on and off of fabrics, so his shirt went on with relative ease. As did the button up.

Towel still about his waist, Finn gripped his brush from the duffel of things yet unpacked from his voyage home, and went on to the mirror. All a matter of getting some of the damp out and the style in. That was until he played I SPY with himself in the mirror while beginning his after training ritual, and noticed the young commanding officer there with him. Clearly Piers hadn't taken notice, or cared to notice Finn's presence, nothing new. Here they were together, Finn in nothing on his lowers but a towel, brushing out his hair with a bristle brush that almost dropped upon the realization they were here together. His nice shirt clashing with his red towel. Assistant Team Leader Nivans on the same hand, dressed in half his gear. Fatigues that never hugged hips tight enough, just barely held in place with the aid of several customized riggings that always snugly made their home around Piers' taut muscled thighs. Except apart from his boots, lower half being covered, and the ever present scarf, there was nothing on him. Was it ever possible to be more uncomfortable, than staring at your team's ace sniper, through a mirror, with his back turned to you so you could see all the fine contours of his muscled back? The drag of brush through locks slowed, bright eyes glued to the glass reflection of toned arms, down his forearms, to diligent fingers, built for a trigger. Those same fingers that ran carelessly through short tawny strands, rubbing over the nape of his neck until they caught into the fabric always wrapped pleasantly about the hidden flesh of his throat. He always moved rhythmically, but Piers Nivans had all but stopped in time, and for a moment Finn thought he'd been noticed. Somehow. In the field Piers always seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, always knew when to turn around and chide someone. Wasting time, breaking ranks, poor marksmanship, overall lolly gagging, and now for staring at the sniper's very athletic build and backside. He was so dead. The urge to look away overwhelmed him, but in the situation, nothing was done or said; and the soldier had continued his path of fingering the scarf with one hand, and the other cupping his hip. Was he really going to take that off? With Finn standing right there? It was a locker room. Piers had to change somewhere, but the scarf was always in place. Gulping down a glob of saliva thick in his throat, Finn couldn't help but look around them as pensive fingers clutched. His towel felt uncomfortable suddenly at the idea o seeing the forbidden flesh, and the relizations that he'd never actually seen Piers without at least one layer of clothing covering his body. It made him felt dirty, but it didn't matter, chewing the inside of his cheek. Anticipation made his breathing hitch. His team would think this was so stupid, and sick; it kind of was. He was being a voyeur on the off chance of seeing a sported body like that with a scarf? Screw them. Please, please take it-

"-With the girl I love and I'm like, _fuck_ youuuu! HAHahahahaa!"

Fucking hell. Piercing hazel eyes shot over lean shoulders, taking in just what Finn saw as the rest of the team lumbered in. All half naked, soaking wet, and singing… what? There was laughter, of course it was good, great right? The team should bond.., just not when he's being a perverted shit. Glancing back into the mirror, hoping not to come face to face with his surveyed assistant leader, Finn's shoulders with slack. Gone. How did he do that? So close. Covering his blush, Finn took three quick swipes of his hair brush, hurried back to his locker that was always constantly tampered with by those who scampered in. Andy was always peeking in. Like that time over the calendar he kept inside. He didn't want to explain this week's new excursion, or anything else. Just needed to go. Really needed to go, once he realized there was only a towel hiding his shame at staring at his co-captain, and prying eyes. Of course the interruption had cleared up that growing 'apprehension.' Hard to keep your focus when there were four guys all singing together in a mutant chorus of tone deafness. He wasn't as good as Piers was at it, but hopefully he could ghost out of here and...

"Okay, best music moments of all time at the B.S.A.A.?"

"That would be Valentine singing Barbie girl, her first night at the range! And don't say that didn't happen capt'n! Hahaha!"

Chris chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "I may or may not be able to confirm that."

Snugly apply a midnight blue shirt over those broad pecs, Finn hurried his movements. Just pants. Well, briefs first, the pants. It was fun hearing all about this, but Finn never was really part of it. "I don't know captain. Macauley Culkin here made it kind to easy for me, seeing as he's got Bieber Fever. Never seen a man _that_ pussy whipped in all my life. Come on, Finn, what honey did you learn that tune for? Tell me you got something for it! At least a blumpkin!" Hauling his shirts up at the bottom, Finn gave his glide stick deodorant a run over each armpit before throwing it back in his locker. He shouldn't be so pissed, but that was his sister they were talking about. "Oh! Hell, and nothing, NOTHING will ever beat doing dragon shots with Marco while Delta team did the Y.M.C.A. dance!" At least they were off the subject again. And most were quick dressers. Chris was quicker than the others, considering his size, but he was already half way out the door as Finn put his first leg through his briefs. "Leaving already cap? I'm just getting started. Have you seen Clive do the Bird?! Fuckin' riot!-" The door shuttered shut behind the captain with a wave. It was true that Captain Redfield only enjoyed having fun for so long before he'd drag himself back to his paperwork like the great man he was. Finn respected that. But it did mean he needed to dress quicker. With the captain gone that left Ben and Andy to continue this conversation with the addition of Marco. And that boded ill for all. "Hey Rose! Did you know that Finn sings just like a-

"Where's my CD, Walker?"

"Awwww, rookie wants his kidz bop back?"

There was a roll of laughter, but Finn cut him off for the first time. This wasn't a joke, and that was a gift from his sister. To hell with manners if no one was going to respect each other's personal effects. Finn might have been a class A coward in front of his team mates, or when it came to sticking up for himself, but when it came down to defending his sister, he'd do anything. Too important. some things were too important for him to let a moment pass by and this was too important. He hadn't even gotten to listen to the whole thing. "Where, Walker? And I swear if there's a _scratch_ on it-

"-You'll do what rookie?" A dead silence came over the room, the swing of locker doors clanking shut behind the weight of rough palms. All eyes directed at Finn. Fear climbed up inside the rookie's chest, seizing his heart in it's fist while he was given the coldest glare from all those involved. "That's right, greenhorn..., you'll do jack shit. Don't start that lily-livered bullshit with me, because trust me, you won't be getting back up. You'll opt out and run home to mommy for the shit I'd do to you, and then you'd cry like a bitch taking it up the ass the first time. Because that's what you are. Open your mouth again, I'll put your sparkly teeth right through the backside of your skull. Understand, Macauley? If you ever so much as open that bitchy little shit-stained mouth of yours again..." Knuckles cracked, and Maro's chuckle could be heard over the creaky swing of metal on their hinges as all eyes fell on Finn. His mouth quivering once as it drew shut. God why was he such a coward? Why couldn't he be blessed with courage like his sister really thought he had. Instead he was acting like he had only five years ago in the locker room in his high school, hiding from the jocks. Damn it. "Good boy. Now run along home before I brand your face with my fucking fist! Got it?" Finn was gone in just those few seconds, ignoring the laughter issued from behind at his expense.

Adjusting his clothing properly now that he was free, Finn took in a deep breath. It was gone... great. His one thing he had from his sister since she was able to understand why he left and here he was getting it snatched up by the big bad wolf. This was all dumb. Finn never belonged. How long was he going to have to be the rookie until someone else took the term, or maybe he'd be considered to have earned his place. He was such a wuss for walking away, but gosh darn it all if there wasn't a single person he knew who was more intimidating than Andy Walker with his crew of Larry and Curly. Maybe.. maybe if he talked with the captain? If he filed a complaint? But if he did that they might remove him from Alpha team and all Finn really wanted was to serve his country. But he could talk to captain Redfield, that he could do. Nodding with renewed resolve, Finn started his trek toward the captain's office, wishing in the back of his mind that maybe he could have been like everyone else instead of like this and been in on all the private jokes. It would have been so great to be part of them instead of an outsider who wasn't allowed to laugh without getting laughed at. For the heck of it, maybe he'd even ask the captain what kind of music he liked. Just so he could get to know the man better, since it seemed everyone else got to have a party. He'd like that. Yeah. And maybe he'd tell him that about his sister too, and he could share his own something personal with someone. Captain Redfield was always helping him with something important, only fitting they become more familiar. YEAH!

"You remember the first time I caught you singing?" Finn's hand stopped on the door handle of the office, peering at the hard wood as he distinctly caught the deep baritone of the captain, clearly carrying on the earlier conversation with? "You didn't even realize I was there. Just lost in your own little world because of those headphones you had on. I grilled you about it for an hour earlier that day and there you were pulling a strip tease for no one in particular. Gotta say, I miss those days. When you were cut loose." Finn smiled slightly to himself, dropping his hand from the shiny knob, taking a sigh. Probably Jill from the tone the captain sported. He always had a smooth tone when he talked to Jill, like his mouth was full of honey. There was quiet for a long while, Finn sighing. He didn't want to interrupt something, particularly not his captain's something, but he did need to talk, and the longer he waited wouldn't it get more uncomfortable?

_TapTap_

"Yea, come on in." No malice... that meant it was okay right? Turning he knob with a ginger twist, Finn winced rolling his shoulders before pushing the door the rest of the way, eyes locked and brows jumping halfway up his forehead at the site of combat boots rather than high heels, and fatigues over the usual bright blue mini skirt. Piers? He'd been talking... to Piers. Finn was still adjusting to the sight, though the captain was giving him an amused lopsided grin at his prolonged and uncomfortable gawking at the sniper soldier who's back was still to him. Heart pitter pattering in his chest, Finn attempted a word, only to have it cut off when the captain leaned forward from his perched weight against the desk at his hips, to grab the front side of Piers' mesh fabric scarf and gave in a jerk. Like he could have heard inn's thoughts at seeing how out of place it was, and the potential of seeing skin was making his skin flush after the episode in the locker room. He couldn't hear those thoughts... right?! Nervousness ticked in, particularly at the sound of musical tenor hum that filled the air at the adjustment, not pulling away. "What can I do you for Macauley? Thought you'd be homeward bound by now." Chris hadn't let go of the material, was just rubbing his thumb on it, the two of them not looking at each other, just Chris glancing at the rookie over Piers' lithe shoulder and the soldier with his head cast down silently. It was like a weird black and white without words and no one was suppose to say anything but stumble through the acts. They were on pause. Except they weren't. Finn was gawking, Chris was smiling and putting weight on grey tan fabric about Piers' neck. It was clear as day...

The captain knew. Probably since that day in the chopper or when he'd begged him to teach him to talk to Piers. He knew Finn liked Piers and he... thought it was funny? Or maybe he thought it was cute? Or sick...? No, not sick, Chris was giving him that knowing smile with a single raised brow and scruff covered jaw. It was just a declaration, he knew. Did that mean Piers knew too? They shared everything. They were partners after all and if someone gross rookie was crushing on his partner he might be forced to tell too, but Piers' wasn't moving either, just held there by the single one handed testament to how at ease he was with Chris. This was it..., he was going to be kicked out of Alpha team, and the military for the rest of his life. They'd all label him a freak and call him sick. Like he had some kind of incurable disease and they were all going to be infected. "Macauley!"

"Huh?!" That came out way too loud. "Uh, yes sir, I uh...," Please don't know. Chris' calloused fingers finally unwoven from their location, giving a minor tug of the folds back into place before leaning all his weight on palms and ass against the desk. It made the sniper shake his head, turning to drop into the 'guest' chair across from Chris' desk, pulling one foot up on the arm of it so he could rest his bent elbow on a knee. Nothing, no recognition, nothing of difference. So.. he hadn't told. Relief washed fresh over Finn's features, along with a slump of shoulders that had been locked in a chronic tensed position. "I just wanted to make a report... I know, I shouldn't.. its just, the guys-

"-Oh, right. Your CD. I grabbed it off Walker after you bolted, rookie." Chris lurched off the desk, reaching into his desk and snatching up the tiny disk in his great mitt, handing it over without once touching the shimmering matter. "Don't sweat it, kid. We all have our vices. Just because my music taste happens to be stuck in the 80's doesn't mean you guys have to be. Nivans is a rapaholic. Should hear some of the shit I've caught him singing. A lot more embarrassing then Justin Bieber, I'd say." Piers shrugged up his shoulders at the mention of his own, or how it made Finn smile to hear anything reassuring, taking the disk up in his hand palm. "I was just talking with him about that, actually." A grin widened on Chris' lips, one that reflected the complete opposite of the sniper in the chair, rolling his eyes as a bit of discomfort, that caused him to shift in the seat. Except the captain didn't share the remaining part of that conversation, rather he just shared a knowing smile at Finn who was immediately reminded. He knew. Giving a nod, Finn pocketed the disk, looking once more at the pair before heading off toward the door. "I'll keep an eye out for you tomorrow, kid." Hurry to spin toward the portal to safety, Finn found himself in a vice grip hold on his shoulder, his face flushed immediately as the blood rose to his face, the.. the captain of the S.O.U., his captain, not only gave him back his little sister's CD that had deep sentimental value, but he would be looking for _him_! Tipping his head to find the sniper there, hazel eyes piercing him like a knife to the gut. Chris already in his desk fighting a chortle over how startled Finn seemed to get at each contact with Piers, physical or mental.

"I..I...I uh-

"Move."

The sniper rolled his eyes, jerking passed him and immediately down the hall. Right... just wanted him to move. Taking a deep breath, Finn glanced one more over his shoulder at the captain, arms propped behind his head. "Don't worry about it, Macauley. He'll warm up to you..., they all will. Just give it time. Besides. You gotta be the one to organize an S.O.U. wide karaoke night. Heh."


	4. Out of the Frying Pan

So... Captain Redfield..., he knew. After every bad name, horrible slang terms, and over all banter thrown around about people who were homosexual that went on inside the Special Operations Unit; the least Finn had expected upon the news coming to light about his own sexual orientation, was death. Or at least a hanging. He hadn't in the least expected his own captain to be perfectly fine with the news. Nor the idea of him keeping it to himself, because what better news to spread that the 'confirmation' of the 'rumor' that Finn Macauley was gay. But nothing had happened. One day, one week, a month. There were a few small knowing glances his way from the man, but other than that nothing. Not so much as a word about it. Or about his understanding where his affections lie. But where did that leave him? Did that mean that he could return to not worrying, not fearing the next day when the older man let it slip that he was a pervert? Or did that mean he was free? What did that even feel like? There wasn't a day he could remember since joining up with the S.O.U. that he could remember not worrying about keeping his secret. At first it was harder because he wanted to balk at every off handed, back alley trash term that were used like jokes between the team. At home there were no prejudices like that. Finn had grown up in a very well respectable place, San Fransisco, California. It was open minded and fun. Everyone there supported each other, and you were never alone. Even his parents had never questioned his choice. That he may love men rather than women, but at that point, even he wasn't certain how he felt. But there was always someone. And then, then he'd decided to serve his country. And it all changed. Didn't matter where you were from, being gay was always the butt end of every joke. But... the captain knew? And nothing, he said nothing. He was understanding. Of course he was, he was Captain Chris Redfield, and the best man that Finn Macauley had ever had the pleasure to meet! That's right, so it was okay to relax now. Everything was going to be okay, and for once Finn could feel at ease. Out of the frying pan.

Overbearing weight was lifted from his aching shoulder as he set down his duffel-bag upon his smoothly made bed of the lower bunk. Figures he would have the lower bunk, but! He didn't complain, it was an honor just to be a part of the unit, he could have probably slept on a bail of hay and would still be grateful to be where he was. Perching down upon his rump next to the duffel-bag, he sighed and reached to grip an adjusted strap with one hand, unclasping it with the other. Reaching his hand in, he blinked as his hand moved over a slim disc, pulling out the mixed CD which his little sister Penny burned for him, causing his cheeks to flush apple red. "Really got me in a pickle the other day, didn't you?" It was all right, while the CD itself wasn't hardly of any monetary value, it did have quite a bit of sentimental value, and his ever-watchful captain became his own personal white knight. Andy was another matter. Why did he have to always be the stereotypical jerk of the group? He had dealt with people like that plenty of times before in smaller measures, but his grandma always told him the bigger men (well, figuratively) walked away. How on Earth was he supposed to walk away from a teammate? Someone he was supposed to trust with his life! Emitting an exasperated sigh, he lifted the CD and placed his lips against the cover before tucking it back away, it wasn't the same as kissing Penny on her warm little cheek and twirling her around in his arms before heading out on duty, but it was something. Penny always had a way of making him feel better. When Finn had trained for boot-camp and the eventual ongoing P.T. fitness, each and every time he would go home on leave, his little sister would immediately force him to sit on the couch and wrap measuring tape around his bicep while her eyes would pop open wide, exclaiming how much stronger he was. If only he'd felt that strong when Andy was giving him the 5th degree.

"There's the fruit of the loom!" Laughter rang out of rhythm as the trio consisting of Andy Walker, Marco Rose, and Ben Airhart burst into the barracks, startling Finn. Tension immediately sank its' teeth within the demolition expert's shoulders as Finn turned his head to shy a glance at Andy. Homosexual jokes were common among some men in the military, but he could feel a bite in the tone of his voice in that insult that spoke more than just a simple put-down, he inwardly prayed otherwise. Andy nearly tripped himself with his own boots, swinging an arm out to steady himself by gripping the collar of Marco's shirt, ripping the fabric in the process as Marco scowled and adjusted his red dress shirt, Andy bursting out into laughter before easily steadying himself. Finn felt color in his face as he paused to glance over his shoulder at the exit, swallowing hard while the idea of moving himself and his things to the mess hall seemed all the more tempting by the second. Biting the bullet, the S.O.U. rookie bit down upon the contour of his lower tier, turning to look at Andy while lifting his hand to his forehead in a casual salute, sticking his thumb up as a friendly gesture. Unfortunately, his immediate response to sticking the thumb up was met by his own issues of self-confidence, awkwardly lowering his hand back down to his lap as his embarrassment only fed the fire, humoring the men who watched on. "No, no, no. Don't get up, have I got the fuckin' thing for you, Macauley. See, guys, this little fucker right here has a fan club that he didn't even let us in on, but lucky for us, I got the latest newsletter." Stuffing his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out what caused Finn's heart to sink down into his feet, a folded yellow letter, now crumpled from being handled by Andy, it had come straight from his little sister's personal notebook. "Get a load of this; 'Finnie, there's something I really wanted to ask you, I'm too scared to talk with mom or dad about it, so please don't tell anyone. Pinky swear! I met a new boy from school, and he's really, really cute. I want to talk with him more, but I don't know if he likes me. You're the most handsome person I know, Finnie, and if anyone knows how to talk to a cute guy, it's just gotta be you. Do you think he might like me? I don't even know if he thinks I'm pretty..' Macauley? If this bitch is related to you in any way, she hit every ugly branch on the way down, no offense. However! What a fuckin' shock, knowing that our little rookie is a fudge-packer in sheep skin. You think you can just apply for the S.O.U. for a good time or somethin'? Lemme tell you something that I've been saying all along, girls these days? Show up in a ritzy fuckin' car and you get your dick sucked, so I'd say your sister has a pretty good chance, man. You, on the other hand, have a better chance of having the captain break your dick off and wearing it as a hat." Despite Finn's reaction to all of this, what Andy hadn't been aware of was the presence of their ever timely team leader, Piers Nivans across the room.

Drunk. It wasn't a surprise, the men of Alpha team enjoyed their liquor, and not just a draft beer here and there. It was a fair bet every one of them would die of cirrhosis by the age of thirty, or at least one would wrap their car around a pole even before that. In the reign of F.B.C., the organization was smaller, the B.S.A.A. was lucky to have anyone in, it apart from its founding members. The early days of the B.S.A.A. was riddled with untrained, wise cracking assholes, and they could get away with their shit. but years had passed since those days, and with the formation of the Special Operations Unit, there was less room for era. They had become more militarized, and thus this kind of bullshit stunt wasn't acceptable. That was why they had people like Piers Nivans in charge. Young as he may be, it didn't matter. He understood what it took to be a soldier, to bring men like Andy Walker to heel. It was permissible to allow some recreational activities, to keep the troops morale, but then there were side effects to that line of thinking. Some men held their inebriation with grace; example being their level headed captain, who could drink a liter of vodka and still walk himself out. Throw a manageable punch to knock your head clean off if need be. Others became more of less the zombies they hunted, led by their babbling idiot of a designated leader, agent Andy Walker. Rose wouldn't retaliate against his own; even after wearing his only dress shirt, now ruined. He'd said nothing over the matter other than a grunt; just another mark on top of the stain from whichever aforementioned drink he'd been nursing over the night, because he supposedly wanted to 'keep clean' when he was away from his wife. Walker however, stumbled in like a pigeon-toed two year old who got into daddy's liquor cabinet and went a few too many overboard, starting at the first shot of jaeger-bomb. Airhart was batting at chortling over some unheard joke; one that screwed up his face like he'd sucked on a lemon. Doubtful either of those two were consciously aware of seriousness of their situation. The only one among them who hadn't been sloshed was Macauley, and of course that made him the target. A fact Piers was certain, that right now, he was wishing wasn't that wasn't case.

Piers couldn't abide the indulgence of drinking, though the captain did to some varying degrees; and that made it an offense he couldn't punish without cause. As of now there was none, just some casually thrown around witless retorts on the ongoing frustration of Finn's inclination toward men. Not that any of them could actually prove it. But then Walker had accused every one of his team members of liking a rod up their ass at some point or another, it yet to prove true of any of them. Leaning back quietly against the back wall of the barracks, arms flexed across his chest; one over the other. He needed to examine the scene laid out before him, perfect brows furrowed instantly. He would take no action before it was necessary. Piers took a hands off approach to rookies, particularly ones like Macauley. Rookies had to learn to either react on the fly, just like in the field, or they'd fail and he'd find them some nice cushy desk job to make up for it. It didn't seem fair, but it was the hard facts of life. The S.O.U. didn't need any more bad publicity, and they lost enough men due to stupid field decisions and the inability to follow orders. Walker had a list of poor decision making skills that stretched a mile wide, but he was good for one thing. Teaching the rookies fight or flight. When Finn decided to run; and he would, because that was the kind of man Finn was. _When_ he ran, Piers would step up and he'd put Walker through enough P.T. to last him a lifetime. The point was, was Finn needed to man up, and it needed to happen sooner than later before he became a liability. He needed to learn to fly without Chris there to baby him, holding up his wings. The captain held every rookie's hand, gave his A.T.L. warnings against beating down their morale, or making them seem unwanted. As though Piers had never been one of them. The sniper had been a rookie once. He knew what it took. It only took a few short months and hell if that status didn't wear of as soon as it touched the tongue. Not a man on their team questioned it either, because they knew what kind of people it took o get the job done, and Piers was one of them. Finn was just this young man, talented albeit with his own specialty, and as a human being he was a sweet guy. Not to be taken as a compliment, sweet guys were the first to die. It was just that Piers wanted them safe, which was understandable; he watched enough rookies die in the field he didn't want this kid becoming victim to his own inexperience. But it perpetuated a cycle, being nice to guys just because they were sweet. Piers watched things get progressively worse every time they picked up a new kid; for himself and the captain. Chris got more clingy to the younger recruits, more reassuring, and Piers simply got colder. Captain Redfield helped them, until he couldn't, and then they'd fall. There weren't enough men out there, the world was breeding little boys and expected their task force to turn them into men. They didn't have time to teach people to hack it on their own. So did he allow his rookies to get a decent run for their money from their team mates? Damn right he did.

You don't think about it, in the long run. What preferences men carry. The S.O.U. was formed so that soldier could be made to defend their country. Concerning one's self with their sexual tendencies doesn't often come up. You keep things to yourself, and you are there to protect people, but hearing that drunken bellow, the bedraggled hatred in Walker's voice, gave rise to listening to more than intent. If men are going to fight, they will do it without reason, but watching the waving of personal effects, Piers' fingers introduced himself to his palm, and squeezed. An ironclad fist born of disrespect on Walker's part for having stooped so low. Piers own preferences took a backseat in wartime. There was nothing but the mission, and that wolf pack of hatred encircling Finn was only grating on the last bits of steeled nerves. Of all the men in the S.O.U., he hadn't banked on this ever being an issue with his combat squad. Albeit, unwillingly, Piers dubbed himself outside the realm of this battle. The topic they dared broach upon; about family, was more important than where the man liked to stick his dick. There were three men currently in the Special Operations Unit who happened to enjoy that kind of thing and it was none of their fucking business; but when you insult a man's family, it is all the more important to let things play out.

Finn gulped. A visible glob in his dry throat that ten gallons of orange Sunkist wouldn't dislodge, making his adam's apple bob with every attempt. Penny's letter. He'd only _just_ told his little sister about his 'affliction.' To his displeasure she's been so understanding about it hearing the news, that she demanded with a finger jut into his sternum, to spill all the 'juicy' details. She was so excited to have common ground with her brother, to the point where he'd told her every one of his recent problems. As though he had a right to be opening that can of worms on Penny's tiny little shoulders. But they'd connected. She'd wanted to know all about this..., object of his affection while laughing over burgers at their favorite mom and pop joint. That little girl was so sweet, playfully probing for intimate details about the person he had embellished being in more than just a one sided relationship with. So they'd talked all about how 'brave' he was for being a soldier and being so readily open with all his team mates about something that had such a poor track record for the military. He couldn't tell her he was a coward. Not Penny. He wanted her to think of his as this brave hero that she drew pictures of in art class, and a role model for her own coming of age. He had never anticipated telling her that he had an ongoing relationship with their A.T.L., making more of it than it really was. How could he tell her that the sniper didn't even know his name passed screaming it at him in the field for being incompetent. He liked having someone to talk to about how his feelings stirred at the mention of the sniper's name. How was he to know that it would come back and bite him in his derriere. It was all true, just not what kind of relationship he had with Piers. Though thank goodness that letter she wrote only referred to his epically sized mistake as talking to handsome men, rather than naming any names. That was brow wiping pleasing on its own, but he went on. Couldn't Andy just pass out drunk, all blotchy red faced, and get it over with? Instead he had to berate him? But he could take that, and the pounding that was going to come from having his sexuality bubble burst with a pinheaded jerk like Walker. What he couldn't take was the filth that spewed like bog water from their resident jerk's mouth. Enough that it made his head snap up and sea green eyes instantly narrow. All the sheepishness flooded on in replace for adrenaline that made his muscles tremble with the urge to beat Walker's smug face. That, was his sister. A more perfect human being didn't exist. Lurching from the cot style bed provided, Andy tottered at the sudden movement; a hoot of feigned intimidation. Stable hands of an expert in handling explosives dashed out to snatch the revealing message from untrustworthy hands, holding it in a balled fist. "Don't insult my sister, Walker." The closest thing to a threat that Finn Macauley would ever state, but it was the only time he'd say it. Penny, was where he drew the line.

"Oh, ho, ho! Does our resident cum-bucket think he's finally growing a pair? What are you gonna do, hit me?" There was an uproar of laughter that resounded from every direction. As though Finn Macauley would ever raise a fist to harm a fruit fly, let alone to rearrange a man's face. It just served to goad Andy on further in his fiendish belittlement. Andy knew it, the passive behavior of the rookie, how he wouldn't dare challenge a fine soldier such as himself, and it only caused the agent's confidence to swell further. Approaching Finn with a swagger in his step, he lifted a hand to firmly smack the greenhorn cross the face, coarse digits striking soft cheek as if he were a battered wife. "Go on, _homo_. Show everyone here what kind of hero you are. Tell you what, how about I stop by on Thanksgiving and piss in your sister's mouth? Best action she'll ever get." A shit-eating smirk across his countenance as he stared Finn down, taller thought the rookie was. From the 'back-up' behind him, a whistle was heard under of Ben's gruff breath afterwards. The stinging words, along with the strike across his face were belittling, emasculating, and Andy seemed oblivious to his own actions which most certainly crossed the line. Each jest deepening the color of his pasty countenance further starting at the ears, a hand print just starting to show and brightened Finn's face further. Nostrils sniffed once before Andy's feet planted firmly upon the ground, his chin pushed out intentionally while he lifted his own hand to tap the side of it, provoking his teammate to dare what he may. "Come on, Nancy boy. Be a man, take a free shot instead of daydreaming about being a woman. Fuckin' cock-sucker, you get into the B.S.A.A. by giving out freebies?" At this point, Andy nearly worked up the nerve to spit on that reddened face; disgust within his tone. A silence falling upon the small crowd behind him as the issue became more personal by the second. The words were becoming contagious, the longer their comrade spoke out against Finn; Ben and Marco adding to insult by chiding him further. Derogatory gestures running amok; the longer it continued the more lewd, Ben unzipping his jeans and giving his own junk a wave in his direction. Every one of them unaware of the shovels they were using to dig their own graves; some digging faster than others.

Once more lifting his hand, he delivered an unobstructed, halfhearted backhand to the opposite side of the face which he had already struck, creating dualing marks. "Look at this, boys. He's not even a fuckin' man, he doesn't even get that no one wants him here. No one wants a gay waste of oxygen like you making the rest of us look bad. Take the shot before I beat your faggot ass for making us all look bad." No doubt, there was an insecurity within Andy's voice that couldn't be hidden by the inebriation. This wasn't the same Andy Walker that had teased Finn playfully with just a touch of inappropriateness, still someone that would defend him. This was a demon let out of a bottle, a dark side of Andy which nearly reached a boiling point. One that had the explosive's expert looking for safety as his eyes darted from man to man, searching for escape. They hadn't done anything that couldn't be forgotten. Finn was a good guy, he could understand. They were just use to growing up with all those prejudices; they didn't understand yet that your orientation didn't make the man, it was your actions. They could still prove the good people they could be; just let him walk away from all of this. Keeping his chin jutted out, that rueful, cocky smirk never left his tomato red complexion; showing no signs of letting up. Still, the inclusion of alcohol had set a pack mentality for the men behind him, all who backed Andy in his invasion of Finn's personal space, no man stepped forward to stop or pacify the situation. It would take a real hero to stop what they were doing and lead these men into remembering they were all fighting for the same thing, that stupid things like this didn't really matter. But they were followers, not leaders, and so they merely listened and stood there; jeering all the while in defense of their alpha male. Ben still had crotch in hand, whilst Marco had moved on to faking cock in mouth. Still unaware of Piers' presence, at this point it might not have even mattered, he would still single out Finn for the discovery. "You think the captain actually likes you? You're a fuckin' joke, more of a joke than brown-nosin' Nivans. Captain keeps you around so he can make Valentine laugh before porking her. He'd look down on a faggot like you and laugh, he's got no time for lady-boys."

Impatiently, he stood there with his chin thrust out, insult after insult pouring from booze rank mouth as Andy seemed to focus primarily on the sexual orientation, rather than his own predicament growing more and more precarious. Had Piers not taken a backseat in this war, waiting expectantly awaiting Macauley's flee before interjecting. Had he not..., Walker would have instantly found that he was not as brave, with or without the alcohol. Liquor had a way of making some men intolerant, but it would be Andy that would be on the receiving end of a rather stiff punch; cold-cocked when he turned to thumb over his shoulder at his victim; chortling at Ben. The fist colliding against the corner of his mouth and cheek were unexpected, and immediately drew blood from the corner of thin lips as he was forced to take a step or two backwards to maintain his composure and balance. Andy was stunned, yet the expression upon Finn's face was that of a man who no longer gave a shit, it was the straw that broke the camel's back, all of the neurotic worrying, the inability to interact with his teammates in a social manner, it was now too much. In good form, Finn drew his arm back and twisted at the waist before delivering a nasty right cross. It was painful, the pulsating sensation in his hand after the punch. there was a tad bit of concern that he'd broken one of the tiny bones in his hand, from never whole heartedly having socked a man in the jaw before. Finn was not a street fighter, or a boxer, he simply knew how to defend himself. Every member of the Special Operations Unit had to be privy to the basics of self-defense. But it wasn't self-defense. It was in honor of Penny. Finn could take a lot of punishment mentally, but the kinds of putrid swill that bubbled up out of Andy Walker's thin lipped gob just ripped through all restraint.

Andy's face was as red as it could possibly be, shame or embarrassment from being struck by youthful rookie, his eyes hardening as he stared at Finn, reaching his hand up to graze fingertips across his mouth, looking down at the small smear of blood mingled with spit momentarily before he attempted to execute a left hook straight across the rookie's visage. Alcohol induced rage made him fast, but the punch went wide, and Finn easily moved out of the way. Grunting in frustration, he turned and reached to grip Finn by the collar of his outfit, yanking him forth despite hands reaching up to move down against his gripping fists in order to force Andy to release his grip, yet it wouldn't work. While pulling him forward, Andy pivoted his heel and turned briefly before hurling a bony knee up into Finn's gut, slamming his knee as hard as he could into his midsection. Finn immediately doubled over with a gasp from the assault, and as he did, Andy lifted his arm and bent it, bringing his elbow down like a guillotine right down upon the crook of Finn's neck and shoulder, nearly causing the rookie to crumble to the ground as the men behind Andy moved closer to watch the fight. Calling for blood. Andy exhaled a ragged breath and reached down to grip the back collar of his opponent's top and the other hand gripping his belt, pushing his weight into the momentum as he forcefully threw Finn forward, slamming the side of his skull against the metal frame of one of the bunks. Finn became groggy, and he knew it would make him dangerously vulnerable, so as he fell face down upon the floor, he planted his hands down upon the floor. Even the sniper had to wince watching from afar, sharp eyes grabbing every detail as though he were standing amidst the carnage. So long as Finn was still willing to fight, his brothers in arms had to see where they crossed the line. He could at least allow Finn that dignity. Even admit a fair bit of pride for the kid for having remembered his training.

Fiin shook his head furiously to rid it of the spider webs, short cropped locks of dark brown wafted to and fro. Lifting himself upon one leg while the other extended backwards, slamming his boot directly against Andy's bread basket, once more catching Andy off guard as he stumbled backwards and gripped at a bunk to keep him standing. Inexperience reeked in every move, and acquiring the fortitude to continue on made every moment last an eternity. Adrenaline failing him, where other's claimed it saved lives. There was still fight left in the rookie, and Finn turned as his opponent attempted to compose himself, ignoring the warm trickle he felt moving down his ear and temple; his scalp busted open from the collision with the cot. Finn wrapped his muscled arms around the neck of Andy, trapping the nearest arm as his own upper-appendages constricted, he attempted to go for a choke hold, a standard grapple submission taught in close-quarter combat. One he'd learned directly from the captain. Reacting immediately, Andy threw sharp elbows to the side and against the back of Finn's head, throwing his elbows until the choke-hold was released, and Andy shoved the arms away, bending forward at the waist and wrapping his arms around the back of Finn's legs, sweeping them from under him in a double-leg take down. Finn was forced to release the hold, grimacing every time an elbow connected against his cranium, and while he was being taken down, he hammered his fists down against Andy's upper-back, not going down without a fight as he hammered his closed fists down with a purpose, exhaling a grunt once he hit the ground. Before Andy could capitalize on the take down, Finn threw an uppercut which connected with Andy's face, causing blood to spurt from those flared nostrils and drip down his lips and chin, catching in his stumble. Andy unleashing a series of swear words, repeated with a resounding 'DaaMmmmnnn,' from both men watching. That was for Penny. Andy felt the dire need to empty his stomach during the fight, but for the moment he managed not to. Dropping down, he knelt down with a knee on either side of Finn's waist to pin him down in a full mount. Balling both fists, Andy began raining down punches against the face and head of Finn, who lifted his arms up to guard himself and squirm, but to no avail. Andy connected crucial hits, a cut appearing over Finn's cheekbone, one of his eyes beginning to swell shut, and blood began to stain Finn's countenance. Finally, the barrage of punches became overwhelming, and Finn's fighting spirit was quickly extinguished by the onslaught, the guard of his arms lowering as his squirming ceased, at this point more unconscious than conscious, but inebriated Andy showed no signs of stopping.

Until now, the recklessness could have been considered a right of passage. Someone overcoming adversity. There were reasons to let it happen, and more reasons once Finn's face was being used as a speed bag; to end it. Raising off the bunk from the opposing side of the room, Piers took hold of his rifle, never far from hand. The weapon was like another appendage, one that worked as either to remove heads from their dearly departed necks, or working as a balled up fist. Such as the way the sniper clutched his gloved hand over the muzzle, and another cupping the grip guard; hammering the butt of it down against the back of Andy's skull in a fashion that sent his body hurtling in a forward sprawl, over the top of Finn's battered one. Constant belittlement silenced in the moment, Andy's thundering outburst filling the room until he turned to see, whilst grabbing his injury, what had inflicted it. "Oh, look who came to save th-" No one in the right state of mind would have continued, but Piers wasn't always known for being prudent either. His own honor spoke volumes of the crap he was willing to take from others, and that amount to none at all. Keeping hold of the muzzle of his weapon, the sniper used enough momentum in his step which never ceased, to swing the anti-material rifle their men were constantly praising him for, and sent the thing colliding with Andy's jaw, like and upcut before it returned in perfect order to cradled hands, muzzle greeting the decked officer. Andy quickly found himself kissing the tip of Piers' rifle; trigger finger poised. He ended things fast, and in mid-stride, as though there were never any hesitations in his step. Face properly maimed, Andy threw up his hands, laid back on the ground in much the same manner as the victim of his abuse; his 'back-up' fleeing the scene. The captain would hear about it, and take care of those two later. Andy on the other hand, had beat the tar out of his own team mate, over a subject that had hit too close to home for him to properly back track out of now. "Nivans, come on ma-augh.." Pausing to carefully lift a hand to brush fingertips across his upper lip, the blood filling his mouth from being battered with the butt of that infamous anti-material rifle causing his nose to bleed further. "..Come on, man! Didn't you hear what he is? He's not a soldier like us, he ain't S.O.U. He's just a fuckin' closet case! A cock-sucking fairy. You want someone like that watching our backs? Jerkin' off every time we hit the showers? There's no fixin' someone like that, bro. All we gotta do is tell the Captain how he tried grabbin' for my dick, no way he would accept that, he'll cut that ass sniffer off the team and let him rot in the middle of a desert just like he deserves. What do you say, man?"

Finn's swollen eye made a horrible attempt at opening, groaning from the prolonged exposure of getting bashed in the face and suddenly having a reprieve. It would have been kinder for the kid to just black out; but hearing the noise made Piers tip his head just the slightest, examining him out the corner of hazel orbs. He was beaten, and beyond that he had given in. Curling up like a beaten kitten so he could coddle his mashed in features. It just bothered Piers further. He was one of those who had fought for himself his entire life. Never had to struggle to get what he wanted because he worked at it. Some people just weren't built of the same thing, they needed more than just themselves. They needed a team. Which was what Alpha was made for. Not to just back up each other, but the human race. They were fighting for everyone, not just who they pick and choose. It didn't even bother the sniper that his own orientations lay hand in hand with the rookie's. Andy's opinion didn't matter to him, not for himself, but when you start turning the team on itself because you can't man up, then that's when it became his problem. So long as the kid would fight back. Watching Andy smearing blood from his mouth, no doubt harboring a cracked or broken tooth; only served to narrow piercing eyes, and earn a grim set to Piers' jaw. "You're a coward, Walker. Taking your own insecurities out on someone you are suppose to protect." The tenor of the sniper's tone clearly set rigidity in Andy; while serving to earn a soft moan from the other party splayed out on the floor. "It would serve this team best, if I kicked you and all your bullshit out of this organization."

"Bu-

The rifle tip in Andy's face swiftly met his forehead, "I don't want to hear it!" Ever the white knight. Finn tried to get toaa himself try to smile, but the muscles in his face pulling only made him moan louder still, drawing no attention from the heated bite in the A.T.L.'s tone. "Get your ass up." Uncocking his weapon, Piers dropped he muzzle of the weapon suspended in Walker's face, lowering it to the floor. As infuriated as he was with both of their behavior, every party included, Piers was the secondary. He was the example of who those who chose to act like children, were suppose to be. Gloved fingers thrust out, gripping Andy's own reluctant hand, clasping and hauling the man to his feet hard enough to loft him into the air for a brief second, shoulders grazing. "Take yourself to the medic and sleep this off. I don't want to see your face again, until you're sober." Throwing Andy's weight back, Piers didn't bother to watch as he stumbled away, or the cared about the sound of the door to the barracks groaning shut. The captain would hear about this; but not until the matter was settled. Sighing, the surly demeanor cleared away, and Piers shouldered his weapon. Taking the three steps it took to get back to the ball of what remained of their explosive's expert, exhaling loudly as he reached out both hands to pull him up under both arms just like an exhausted puppy. Head lulled on him, Piers tried not to smile, giving the younger man a pat on the back now that he was stable on his feet. "You did good, soldier. Let's get you cleaned up."


	5. Pink Elephants

He never thought it would be Piers, of all people, to be the one the one taking care of him. Did it mean that Piers liked him enough to help? No, Finn was getting ahead of himself, something that was a big mistake. Something happened to help the others in Alpha team figure out his secret, something he'd never expected of his fellow man. Finn hid it so well, but there was no accounting for what the men in Alpha tea were willing to do to get information on each other. He could have tried to deny his accusations, but the others wouldn't listen, it was already out in the open. He didn't show anything; signs, or inclinations. They probably read everyone's letters, not just his own, seeking information. Who knew what kind of secrets Andy Walker had come across, reading other people's mail. Or maybe it was just because he was drunk. That made more sense. Walker was a jerk a lot of the time, but he wasn't really the kind of person that went beyond ribbing, just for the shits and giggles. All those disgusting things he'd said about Penny. First blow belonged to Finn. The next blow went straight for his own temple, making his vision blur for a moment or two, or twenty minutes. Cheers from the others could be heard even though his ears were ringing from being hit constantly. Finn did nothing but keep his mouth shut, hoping not to whimper as much as he was certain he did when the punches rained down on him; battering his mouth. As the beating continued, covering more and more of any exposed tissue, there was no hiding the pained trembling of his body. By that time, he was bloody mess. That didn't stop Andy though. A cut open skull, not to mention how the rest of him felt. It didn't matter though, Finn would have gone at him again if he had the chance, or if his face wasn't swollen to the point of hardly being able to see passed his bloated blackened tissue. One minute, he was fixing to lay back in bed for the night, get some well earned rest from all their hard work the day before, and the next minute; he was lying across the floor with his nose in his eye socket. His face was hurting now, jaw throbbing in excruciating pain, along with the rest of his body. Adrenaline hadn't worked right for that fight, but at least the most injured portion of his body hurt and numbed out the rest of his injures. When he looked up, Andy was there, towering over him, intimidating him, even now when he was feeling healing hands rather than the hurting ones that had pummeled in the remains of his face. 'They don't have any business in the military.' He had just as much right being here as Andy Walker did. That guys was just a jerk, just like everyone else.

About to raise his voice he felt a needle prick his shoulder, cowering from it with a groan. "What was that?" The response was for his caretaker to groan over his cowardice of a needle. He shouldn't feel so defensive, it was Piers after all, but that just seemed to make it worse. Make his body burn with shame for having been knocked around in such a manner and having to have someone come to his aid. He was a soldier after all, he shouldn't need a white knight... Still, as far as white knights went, Piers was damn good at it. Galloping in on a steed with golden horseshoes and a flowing mane... Even if he wasn't exactly excited about having to tend to Finn's wounds. Captain's , a wet cloth dabbed again his thin blood smeared lips, split inside and out, iron staining the inside of it with a hideous taste. The wound was painful but he stayed still as best he could. How come he had to be such a child about all this. Like getting cleaned up by his mom when he use to get into fights as a little kid. Well..., got beat up as a kid. Some bully king of the sand box that wasn't taking Finn for an answer. Pin prick tears welled in the corners of his eyes, trying not to cry, even though the longer he sat here, the number his body seemed to feel, a curious notion.

"Sorry." Sea green eyes bolted open, as far as they could considering they were beaten to sizable shiners the both of them. Did he just hear that? "The wounds need to be cleaned or they'll get infected Macauley. You know that. Especially in our kind of work." The man Piers was helping just nodded dumbly and looked away, feeling almost giddy. Really? He was afraid of talking to Piers now. It was easier to hide his crush when no one knew his secret. He was sure his voice would betray him. But it seemed so wrong hearing Piers apologizing to him, when he was the one who instigated the fight. Happiness warmed his toes though, curling them in his boots, as the warm cloth dabbed yet again, moistening the chapped peeling flesh. The feeling spread slowly, like a snail heating up and starting from his core, and splaying out to the belly, then fingers beginning to tingle, watching as calloused fingers held almost gently to the cloth that nudged his mouth over and over. A stupid grin widened on Finn's face, without ever having known it, smacking his lips and licking the ragged cloth for moisture. His tongue felt like it was covered in a wool sock, his teeth too. It felt fuzzy on the inside of his bloody mouth, and the pain was gone too, chuckling as he sagged in his seat, smacking his lips again as Piers rolled his eyes. Those perfectly piercing, warm, hazel eyes. What was wrong with him? Blinking heavy lids, he smiled, opening his mouth to thank Piers, what came out was completely different, compelled.

"You're so perfect." Well that was suppose to be an apology. Screwing up his face, in confusion on his mouth to brain filter, he watched as a smile crossed over those naturally full, cupid's bow lips of the man who so meticulously caring for him. He had this charisma about him. Piers was like..., like an M&M chocolate candy. Hard shell on the outside, and warm, delicious chocolate on the inside. No, caramel... Something sweet and warm. Even better, incredibly sticky. Hands gripped Finn's thighs, calloused fingers taking a hold and shoving him backward in his seat like a rag doll, drooping against the back of the chair. Every thought came crashing in on his head, a dreamy haze taking over like a dream that swam through his mind. He could imagine what it tasted like to kiss Piers Nivans. Like autumn. He'd be warm, and spicy, but make your gut turn inside out on itself because of how bold and proud he was. Finn had only been drunk one other time in his life and he never remembered it being like this. But he wasn't drunk... He just had all his common sense knocked out of his head with the back of Andy's fist. Like there was any way in Hell, that Piers hadn't heard the rotgut spewing out of his team mate's mouth. No stopping now right? Why would someone ever stop when the going got good! Bubbles formed in Finn's mind, the good kind, the ones that if people could see those thought bubbles, they'd have to get a time machine and travel back to have unseen them, and then see them again! Just because it was that great. "HA! Did you see when I nailed him? I got him good, didn't I? I'm a regular old Davy Jones." Thrusting his head up, a dizzy spell caught him, but didn't stop the moment of chest swelling pride that overtook the young Irish, making a fist with the other and boxing the air.

"You mean Davy Crockett, Macauley?" Piers was attempting not to bust out laughing, holding Finn's hand in his own, one finger between each to make sure they were kept straight while they were set. "You broke three fingers on his jaw, Crockett."

"Darn right, I did! Finn, Jerkface slayer!" Finn looked up at nothing, as though the clouds were parting and sun shown down on his face, and cherubs were bouncing around the sky and singing his name. Whatever was in that shot, it gave him ten gallons of bravery, and some stamina to boot. Who needed privacy!? He didn't need to hide the truth, he was a regular old Robin Hood, robbing from the..., no wait that wasn't right. Didn't matter, he was knocking um dead out there, and this was future wasn't it? You can't be afraid of your own sexuality. Nope. Time to come out into the open. Yeah! No time like the present. "I am loud and proud." Piers halted in his tracks, raising single brow in Finn's direction, perfectly sculpted and laced with confused bemusement, the slight cant of hi head taking in the sight. The two of them staring. Was that suppose to be an admission of his sexuality? Loud and proud? Piers tried not to look completely befuddled by his rookie explosive's expert, and shook his head whilst continuing to wrap fractured knuckles in gauze, taped to each other and a piece of bracing against the knuckles making them immovable to form a proper air fist again. It caused a pout on those chubby swollen features that made Piers feel guilty for having let Walker lay into him so hard, but some times you just had to learn the hard way.

"You're something, alright."

"You know," Finn's mind reeled away like a fish on the line, and it just kept taking on the slack. "Its really nice of you..., cleaning me up like this."

"Its my job Macauley, I'm your superior officer."

Silence joined the ranks, pouting commencing for the Assistant Team Leader's displeasure at accepting a thank you. Knuckles ached more, but moving on to the other hand, it felt like someone had tucked a marshmallow glove over each of his puffed up knuckles. Finn ventured a look at Piers, the steely eyes fixed on the wound on the arm he was dabbing. Minute seemed like hours had gone by while he watched the sniper work. He wondered why Piers wasn't at all uncomfortable around him after Andy told them what had started the fight. Piers had all but hospitalize their co-worker with the butt end of his rifle, putting a stop to that fight before it even began. They'd dispersed so fast, that seeing doubles turned into seeing quadruples until they'd all escaped the sniper's wrath. Twinges of tiny paper cuts on his arm felt like nothing, even though he could see how much blood there was as a sizable piece of white padding was applied, soaking up the ointment and holding itself in place, while teeth ripped off another piece of gauze to wind about Finn's forearm appendage. Those were marks from someone's... teeth? Bleeeehhh, Walker bit him. Smacking his lips, drowsiness seemed to settle in to all of the youngest member of Alpha team. Tied for questioning everything under the sun, or caring what everyone else thought of him. Instead he just watched Piers get to work on getting ointment on a his index finger, a glob of clear gunk clinging to it like drying candle wax, reached up and smeared under Finn's left eye, then the right, and above his brow. All the while nothing breaking that stoic concentration, brows furrowed every few minutes, twitching with the time it took, or some other little detail of the mending process he'd have to stop and redo. "You aren't very good at this are you?" His sleepy side comment earned a scoff, white enamel tearing at gauze again as it was used to wrap about Finn's damaged scalp, and cranium; bringing attention from wandering sea green orbs, to that seemingly busy mouth that was used in place of scissors. "Has anyone ever told you..., your lips look like flower petals?"

"That's the painkillers talking Macauley."

"But no, seriously...," Finn made a big dopey grin, plopping a hand on those strong shoulders that always seemed to be there to hold him up when he fell. "They're like..., they're so pouted..., and full. I bet everyone tells you that. That they're full?" A chuckle lofted, giving the numbed piece of meat that was Finn's hand, a push to fall off Piers' shoulder and hang uselessly limp at his side. "Doesn't everyone tell you that?" Kindness shown in those always narrowed, bedroom eyes, making a dopey grin widen, a missing tooth showing like a gap by his incisor that incite laughter from the pits of lungs so unused to laughing. Finn joined him, bubbling at the chance to give in and share everything with him. Pain killers? He didn't take any painkillers... Nah, Finn Macauley was one tough son-of-a-... great woman! That's right, and he feared nothing. Not even big, bad, Andy Walker, with his hook nose that just got a good readjustment from his right cross. "I think its because they're shaped like a cupid's bow. You know, that fat little angel? Not saying your lips are fat, their just really..., really..., _pretty_." Piers felt embarrassed for Finn at that point, ignoring him as best he could even though at about the moment the words pretty, can fumbling out of Finn's smashed up mouth, there were hands pawing at the smooth contours of tan skin. He wanted to touch them. Left hand swatted away, Finn paraded his grin and wiped a calloused thumb across a silky smooth lower tier. To morphine infected eyes, it was a sensual thing. In real life, Finn just smeared his thumb across Piers' face and partially into his mouth. "Wow." Heavy eyes closed a minute, unable to see the incredulous expression on his Assistant Team Leader's face, for having taken the liberty of calling his mouth pretty and just swiping his digits across it. "Like gummy bears."

"Heh... that's a new one. Gummy bears, Macauley? Gummy bears don't pout like that. Neither do they work a... _command_ in the field, as our bullet-biter does." Chris caught himself from teasing his partner and grunted deeply as he swiped a larger than life forearm across his mouth to muffle the grunt.

"Captain! You came! Welcome to the party!"

Finn's eyes raised up pleased as punch to see his captain, that perfect captain of his, standing in the doorway chuckling into a meaty fist. He was the most perfect captain in all the world. "I've heard Piers called a lot of shit: The Man Who Never Misses a Shot, eagle-eye, boy scout, few others come to mind. Gotta say, gummy bear might just take the cake.." The captain's thudding footfalls were measured, bringing him into the room to take a good long look at the injuries bestowed upon little Finn Macauley's swollen face; despite how happy the youngest soldier seemed to be at the prospect of having his two favorite people so close to his proximity. "Yeah. I would expect Walker to deliver the brunt of it, he's a scrapper. Damned rookie when it comes to actual boxing, though, he's seen a few rough days sparring with me." Resting a burly hand upon Piers' shoulder, the sniper's eyes rose from his business to the older man, giving a curt nod, without using any superfluous words. The longer they continued to stare without talking, the longer Finn became aware how horrible his face must really appear. Looking from side to side more and more frantically; hoping for a mirror, to get the two of them to pay less attention to his hideous features, and let him have a chance. A firm grasp on slumping shoulders stilled him, the captain's gloved hands bringing him back from his bout of neurotic paranoia, along with its very own patented all knowing smile. "You were saying about Nivans' lips? Gummy bears, right? Not a bad call there, Macauley." It seemed to brighten him up instantly, looking to the disapproving sniper who clenched his jaw and bore it like the good soldier, pointing out a fracture along the explosives expert's upper clavicle, ignoring the goosebumps it raised to touch him. "I might say they're pillowy, and we all know a pillow needs stuffing, isn't that right? Especially at the end of the day when you just want to bury yourself into one nice and deep."

"You aren't helping, captain."

Piers threw a fake punch that Chris caught with a grin, the other hand jutting out to cup his partner's jaw in a manner that only a lover should. Though the fact that Finn was mind boggled at how Chris' hands moved so fast to begin with, he wasn't questioning how their beloved captain was holding back the tawny haired sharpshooter. A rough, gloved pad, followed the same motion Finn had only minutes earlier, rife with a bit more dexterity as the pad slid back and forth a few times before relenting his grip. "See? You just don't find lips like that these days, pillowy gummy bears. One of a kind." Chris smiled lovingly at Finn, much like an older brother would to his tiny sibling, patting him once on the undamaged side of his head, giving his hair a ruff. "I want you to keep focus on those until we're finished here. Affirmative?" A sluggish silly nod, and Finn's attention once again returned to whence it came; earning the captain a parental scolding without words. "Stow the grumping, Piers. He's a kid hopped up on morphine, looking worse for wear. You did us proud, Macauley. Standing up for yourself like that. Piers, do him a solid and let him admire those lips. Not every day someone gets that right." There was a non-verbal protest, but being too far gone to contest anything they were saying, Finn was simply enjoying the view as their captain had suggested. Things were slowing down, and words were all morphing up together, but that didn't stop him from getting pleasure out of dreamily watching as he tip of a tongue flicked out to moisten the upper tier of those lips in slow motion. "Yeeeeeah, pillows."

"_Chris._" The disapproval was still apparent, but Chris was just giving Finn something else to think about. Like as not, the explosives expert wouldn't even remember this conversation come the morning. "I didn't even give him that much. Just enough to take the edge off." Fingers in Finn's hair, Piers lulled the young rookie's cheek against his shoulder, combing gently through the tresses of hair to show the captain the scalp injury on his head, their conversation nodding off in bomb expert's head when he noticed with a small sniff, that he could smell Piers' natural scent, so close to his neck this way. Humming happily, he took an even bigger breath in, harboring the exotic smells in his nose and chest for as long as he could, until forced to breath again. Gun oil, apples, and cinnamon. Who smelled like that? The scent made heat spread all the way from his nose, to his toes, tingling all his nerves and senses. Piers couldn't help but smile at the rookie's behavior, softly glancing at Chris who was having an absolute fit not to laugh over how attached it seemed the Irish had gotten to someone who had made an effort in creating distance between himself and others for a living. "He's going to need at least five days, before you can put him back in training captain." That was just as Finn lurched himself sideways and leaned over in Piers' grip to take a huge inhale of Chris' own scent, smoky gun powder, along with the chemical odor of the assault shotgun carried at all times, combined with a masculine musk akin to the Mimulus. Wrapping his arms around Chris' sculpted build, hugging him about the waist; Chris' arms awkwardly held out to the sides with a look that read 'are you serious,' avoiding touching the drugged man embracing him like an oversize teddy bear. Eyes screwed shut with an inward grimace, trying to ignore getting his abdomen nuzzled by a full grown man. "Macauley? Hey!" Finn neglected to move, and in fact slumped more contentedly against that broad expanse of hardened muscle covered by a very uncomfortably tight camouflage top. "Alright, very funny Piers, you mind getting him off me?" he was getting his comeuppance for calling Piers' mouth a pillow meant for stuffing, but even then standing there with Finn all slumped against him, there was heavier breathing, and soon a soft snoring as Finn nuzzled closer. "Well..., looks like you've got your hands full Piers. He's yours for the next week until he's back on his feet."

"What?!"

"Oh yeah, and about Walker..." Chris plied Finn off his midsection, letting the rest of his weight go to Piers who had his arms tucked under the bombardier, brushing off his uniform, and making a faked punch to Piers' jaw in the same place the sniper had intention clobbered their team mate with the butt end of his rifle. "You?" There was a nod, and Chris couldn't help to shake his head and purse gruff lips, giving a prolonged whistle, while he headed out the door, trusting his parter to take care of anything further, even a giant baby like Finn, making a short wave over his shoulder. "Alright then partner, I've got Walker from here. Take care of Macauley. See ya, _gummy bear_."


	6. Score

Majority rules. Country music to the styling of Keith Urban blared over the outside speakers. Cast down over the training fields and hanger bays. Generally used for announcements of any kind, or alerting headquarters to the oncoming threats so that all those involved would scurry like a thousand ants when the rain began to fall out on the mountain sides of San Diego. Every corner of the outfitted, world class training and government sanctioned anti-terror facility, draped with levity it had not seen in twelve months. The over all, was that all the guys didn't care what music they listened to, until Parker had put on some strange Spanish polka that had all of Alpha team damn near throttling the man. That was when Marco took control for the time being and put on an alternative rock station he was used to playing at home when he had shore leave, and after that no one else seemed to mind. It was background music anyway, and even as it filtered through the air, it seemed to join with the certain merriment that for once in a very long time Finn could find himself taking part of. Finn could enjoy country. Honestly, he could enjoy everything about this sudden and unexpected find. As he was a rookie, he hadn't been privy to the information that he had come in to work this morning for training, only to find Captain Redfield perched upon a red trunk cooler, in his civies; elbows propped on his knees, covered in stretch knit Calvin Klein, and jeans that seemed far too snug for his own build. Meaty fingers wrapped about the can of his own Rolling Rock with a grin on his face that was rarely seen. In tandem, was his once partner; Jill Valentine laughing into her hand. She herself had donned a S.T.A.R.S.' shirt that had been cut off under the chest and tied into a knot, along with shorts that could hardly be considered shorts and seemed more than like, a pair of underwear, and in complete contrast, army boots. It was there that Finn stood, stunned into a realization that he had spent his first six months in the B.S.A.A. without remembering the fact that the men and women they fought beside, were people too. Once a year, everyone put their assault rifles aside in place of plate of B.B.Q. chicken charred to perfect doneness and a Miller Lite. The B.S.A.A. Birthday Picnic. Sounded generic, but it was important for them to step back from it all every so often and welcome themselves some happiness. Once informed that they were passing drills today, he ran himself to the lockers in search of his extras, and quickly returned in his own light green capris and a shotty grey shirt he had as a spare.

Ninety degrees with a clear sky and a scorching sun, you could cook an egg on the asphalt, and no one gave a damn. Laughing aloud for the first time in weeks, Finn found himself among a crowd of people, all soldiers, half circled around watching arm wrestling competitions between everyone and captain Redfield. Who as of that moment, was drinking his third beer, and mindlessly chatting with Delta team's captain about finding a real challenge. No betting allowed, the only exception being if you wanted to thrown in a name you thought could actually down the great monument of a man. No one seemed to fair properly at even grasping hold of such a large calloused hand. Though it seemed uncommonly funny to the rest of the captains, who were yammering on about how in a real challenge Alpha team could never stand up to the snuff. Those were fighting words. Enough that had the Captain down his opponent in a single swift bulge of forearm and iron clad biceps that surged to bring their opposer down in a loud bang against the table beneath hard enough to jar all the beers scattered on it. Chris was up, chest to chest with one such captain of Delta team, who had started the epic challenge over who's team was the best. Finn's sea green eyes sparkling as they all watched in amusement while everyone started searching for the figurative tape measure. It began with stats, and moved from there to who's team could average the best score on the training runs. Finn stifled a snicker over the captain's admission that he'd bet his team's rookie against any one of their short stacks in a heart beat. Cockiness, aside, he trusted his team to beat any one of theirs, and it was reassuring. And funny as hell, watching the baking sun tan the hides of eight muscle bound men in the smoldering heat, arguing over the most arbitrary of facts on who's team had suffered the least indignity that day in random games. Delta had the horse shoes in the bag clearly, and for some odd reason, both cards and volleyball. But Alpha took the cake on all things physical, and Chris would not relent that title to any team. It was however, one Jill Valentine that had stepped up, spinning a ball on her finger like it was nothing while her free hand rested upon her curved hip which jutted to the side with an attitude, before hurtling it into Chris' hand, the black and white bound circle fitting easily in his inhuman sized mitt.

"They can do anything, huh?"

Unconsciously, Finn began singing in his head a song he'd learned from his favorite musical. It made his head bob left and right as he mouthed the lyrics in his head. Perhaps it would have seemed off to be relating his anti-terrorist team to a bunch of singing girls, but it seemed properly fitting considering in rebuke to Jill's upset, Chris singularly meaty hand squeezed with a throb of muscle, and a devilish grin appeared on his features. "Macauley, go get the boys." Nodding obediently, Finn threw away his plastic plate, nothing left on it but the bone of the Chicken thigh he'd devoured, and some kind of pineapple salad one of the secretaries brought in an effort to be friendly. It hadn't tasted like anything but pineapple smeared on cardboard, but he was still nice and thanked her for her trouble before thumping the heavy plate within the black bag, slung up inside the can, a tornado of a thousand tiny flies buzzing out of place. Knowing that Walker had been nearby when orders were issued, he didn't bother searching him out, and instead went to where the music was loudest, a crew of line dancers synced together like a unit, all led by Rose in his cowboy boots and large brimmed hat. He'd once knew how to line dance, some song his mom use to play for him when he was little and he'd put on his dad's shoes that towered up to his knees before tripping on himself. That was before though, when times were better and the world wasn't stained by the essence of bio-terror. A beer found his hand, and Finn placed it aside, uninterested in anything but the methodical motions of how the steps moved everyone in concentric circles of one another. The grapevine. That was the move that had them leg over leg, ending with a loud sharp clap, making the whole group laugh as they changed direction yet again. Waving a hand over at Marco, it didn't take long for him to submit lead to another dancer, wiping his brow with a pleased smile and slapping Finn on the spine.

"Hey kid. What's shakin?" Throwing back the beer that had been pushed aside, a swig ended with a swipe of the the back of his hand against his stubble covered chin and a wet squish before sloshing down the can. "Havin' fun?"

Looking at his shoes, Finn nodded. Since his pound out with Andy, it seemed the team had started giving him his own brand of respect. He still was unsure, but it wasn't as hellacious as it had been. "Captain took a bet. He wants us all too meet up at the training field." Marco was nodding as he drank more of the Miller in hand, making a wincing face at the sound of _bet_. There was a grimace, then a corresponding nod getting a send off from Finn with a smile as such. Not much conversation passed between Marco and Finn, but then just because they got along in their own way now, didn't mean that they were now bosom buddies. That left him to get Airhart. Spending a single moment to admire the dancing once more, Finn took hold of a lemon bar as he passed the buffet table, taking in a small bite before having to step backward; forcibly grabbing another. The thin folded paper in front of each dish deliberately made certain you know who it was that made whatever delicious food you tasted. In shock and awe, Finn took another, reading the scrawl that stated it was from a gentleman's hands these pastries found the table spread. 'Quint.' Whoever that had been. Good though, and if he ever had the luxury of meeting this person, he'd have to thank them later on. Continuing on with a light step, Finn passed by the grills where a larger man with an interesting accent, turned the meat over, and stirred a pot of pork and beans. Such brotherhood bonds that had been forged in the midst of battle.

He had some time, they had to find everyone, and it was a relaxed day, though he couldn't imagine Captain Redfield being a very patient man after being taunted by his old team mate. Headed toward the hangers where he knew Airhart was holding a poker game, but stopped en route to a flash in the eye from a scope that was placed off to his right. It wasn't uncommon during the normal hours of the B.S.A.A. for that to happen a thousand times during business hours, but today? Taking a second glance, he spotted the one person he hadn't seen that day, much to his own dismay. It seemed so cliché for their A.T.L. to refuse the company of others, but Finn had expected him to at least enjoy some down time from the constant strain that was expected of them. Instead, he had his back to the wall, sitting without his normal perfect posture, in fatigues and nothing but; fingers checking the crooks and curves of his rifle. The scope that had reflected the sun glimmered from the ground, dismantled and strewn on the ground. "Piers!" He hadn't meant to sound so excited, but then..., how often do you find yourself with an opportunity to enjoy the added perks of 90 degrees and rising? Eyes jerked up from behind dark lensed shades that hid those hazel orbs, exacting as they were, still sporting a slight curl to cupid's bow lips. "Have you eaten yet? There's this huge buffet full of snacks. Here, have a lemon bar!" Thrusting the bar outward, Finn plodded toward his superior officer with a smile finding himself staring for an extended period at Piers' lithe body structure, collar bone easily followed to a shoulder that had the butt of his infamous rifle wedged against it's impressive clutch, surprised on his own to spot the very place it rested maintained a constant discolored bruising from high impact of managing that monstrous kickback. Rather than continuing his stare though, his fingers maintained the poise on the lemon bar until finally he recognized to his own chagrin that Piers had refused to take it.

"Who made it?"

"Someone named Quint? They're really good. Best thing I've had all day apart from the B.B.Q."

Chuckling into his hand, the sniper with his constant calm shook it off, placing his rifle in all its parts back to the ground. "How many of those have you had rookie?" Finn counted for a number of seconds on his narrowed fingers, squinting at them before holding up the sign for three. "Heh. Probably should lay off the sweets next time. You know Cetcham makes those with a lot more than love and care, one too many movies." Screwing up his face confused and giving a small rub to the back of his neck, Finn watched Piers shake him off, bagging his rifle parts. "Forget it kid." The zipper nipped into the sniper's finger as he pulled the bag shut, shouldering it and heading back toward the hanger bay four where they kept alpha team's equipment. On a good day the meticulous younger man might never be caught letting go of his gun in a public setting, but today wasn't natural. It was nice, though, seeing that naturally tan form walk in front of him, as Finn followed like a puppy until he noted the vague annoyance on his features when he cast a look over his shoulder, gleaming with the sweat from the sun. "What's up rookie? Spill it already." Another lemon bar in mouth, Finn dry swallowed it, rubbing the crumbs off his face.

"Captain told me to find Alpha and round the guys up."

"Oh?"

"Yip. Soccer."

The tanned skinned man halted briefly, huffing before continuing his stride, ignoring the poker game going on with the women in each others laps. They were all members here but some women had no decorum on days like this. Airhart raising his head to the sight of the two together with an arched brow; the clang of Piers' locker banging shut behind his pack. "Airhart. Fold your hand."

"WHAT!? I've got two pa-" A round of snickers. "Man, fuck you right up the ass, Nivans."

"Fold, and get out to the training field. Captain is looking for you." A few grumps and Ben folded up his hand, giving a slap to the tush of the honey in his lap, rubbing a round cheek before heading out, briefly followed by the other two. It was an unwritten thing, every year Jill would challenge Alpha, and every year it turned into some huge turf war when Chris managed to put his masculinity in check over a damn game. It was funny, yeah, but that didn't make it any less annoying when their team was forced into so called battle, over a sport. The first time he'd been involved, Piers was baffled to the level that Chris let himself get goaded, but then, their Captain was a master of extremes, and there was nothing wrong with friendly competition. "You ever play before?" Hair fallen from its usual perfectionist manner, it was interesting to see. Piers was young, but with it mused and down the way it was, it removed another few years at most. Safe to say why it was the Captain referred to Piers as Jailbait more often than not. With his features he could have gotten carded by a bartender yet. But rather than dumbly stare at him, Finn nodded in response, proudly.

"I played back in high school. I made it to the varsity team. I even scored a few goals, but I was always more of a midfielder. I never liked staying in one spot. I mean its good and fun and all, but I always imagined that played as a forward would get kind of boring, and I... I'm boring you?" Finn spotted the sidelong glance out shaded glasses, noting the hint of amusement that showed clear as day on those youthful features. "Sorry for rambling." He'd learned over the last few months that though it seemed they'd gotten closer after the whole incident with Finn's face being turned into a swollen mashed up eggplant by one Andy Walker, that Piers wasn't one for talking. He was always more of listening type, but even then he didn't much prefer that either. The tiny quirks that gave it away always seemed nicely fit for his person, but it made him hard to open up to. "Did you ever play?"

"I got my GED and went straight into the military. No time for it. Never seemed worth it."

Sun stroke or the lemon bars, Finn smiled despite himself, deciding to use the levity of their day to bring some conversation between them. "You don't like a lot, do you? I mean, you're not very... social." Vague, but it made Piers stumble, his natural clean gait, leading to misstep when Finn brazened his question. "Well, you know? Everything you like doing is because you have to do it. Don't you do anything for fun? Hobbies?" Pleased with himself for saying it aloud, the explosion's expert raised his jaw just high enough to appear proud, deflated by hazel eyes making an appearance as the shades were swiped away, so they could meet eye to eye, stunned into silence, before the stroll toward the training fields continued. Moving in silence with head hanging low. Meekly, he rose his head, cant to the side only to squeak out his only valid response. "Sorry..." He didn't expect when he heard the huff, and fingers rose and strayed through tawny strands of longer tresses to push them back, messy as they were; greeted pleasantly and surprisingly by tenor.

"I don't enjoy frivolous things, Macauley. Too many people out there doing nothing with their lives."

"Yeah, but don't you fight terror, _so_ people can do what they want?"

With emphasis, there was a long amount of quiet, and even in the time and place they were at, where happiness was all around it only now seemed to dawn on the specialist, that Finn had the right of it. He'd stopped moving, and Finn had to turn about and check to be sure that the sniper was alright. Clearing his throat under his breath so not to give away too much of a reaction, his fist pressed against his mouth before he spoke. "Listen... It's not 'why' I fight, It's what kind of difference I can make. Plenty of reasons to fight, for hope, for justice, for... anyway, someone like the Captain could tell you a thousand reasons for fighting, and that's why he is the man he is. As for the world we fight for, and the people in it? It is what it is, people can be or do whatever they choose, makes no matter to me, so as long as they don't choose to become the people we come for." Soulful eyes hardened with the added touch of his brow as he shrugged his toned shoulders and reached his other arm out to pat Finn upon the shoulder. "Just chin up and enjoy the... Birthday Picnic, you don't want to keep the captain waiting, right? Probably challenge you to arm wrestle if you do." Nodding his head curtly afterwards, his attempt at humor a bit forced, but genuinely to cheer the rookie up. Pivoting his heel, Piers turned and beckoned him on as they continued onward. Finn had paused before so to ponder over what was probably the longest conversation he had ever shared with the dreamy sniper. Lifting a hand to scratch his smooth cheek, he nodded quietly as his shoulder was slapped, swallowing as it was while he inwardly took in the physical contact. His mouth was fit to open when he felt a hand the on his shoulder, ghosted like a three year old by Santa Claus. Color nearly filled his face as he did everything he could not to squirm like a fan-boy over that contact. Taking a long step, he kept stride behind while enjoying the view.

Finn hadn't considered the difference. Its true, Captain Redfield gave every reason under the sun to war against the battle he'd been fighting for almost twenty years. Where Finn believed them all, and admired their overlording hulk of a captain, he hadn't considered that that opinion, was the only one. He had always been novice in his beliefs that despite all their differences, Finn was just like all the men here. Andy, Marco, Ben, and himself were all the same, and bled the same blood for the same cause. But Just watching the tug of those full lips when the idea of other people's well being was mentioned brought a new light to the issues at hand. Piers was not fighting for people. He was fighting for something else, and a something else that made him so cold to the rest of the world that he hardly stopped to feel the cool breeze that touched them, or admire the single large cloud hovering just before the sun. Whatever the case was, Finn was determined now. And his mother had a way of saying that for all his faults of being shy, he was without error, determined. Coming up to the field, they came upon an area that had been marked off, the rest of their team in the middle of this pitch, and stretching their limbs as Chris gave a nod to the last remaining members coming to join them. With all Finn's gushing, he couldn't help but fluster before they reached the crew, a smile unhidden on his face. "When this is over, I'm going to show you a good time." It wasn't until Finn realized how infuriatingly euphemistic that was when they'd come up to the circle, Piers stifling a chuckle as he gazed at Finn, ignoring his bashful groan while the Chris glowered at them both for failing to be prompt.

"You done, gummy bear?" Piers returned the glare, but Finn could only cast a questioning look, having no recollection apart from a hazy memory of himself talking to the captain, but the extent of it gone from memory. "About goddamn time soldier, took you long enough. Here's the gist." An epic battle. Jill made the stakes. Meeting in the center of the field, all of Alpha team and an array of players that Finn did not recognize, despite being well versed. Shirts verses skins, and they drew the lucky straw; skins, which had been unlucky, if one were the captain after having a few and hoping to see a bit more from Jill, hadn't suggested she play skins first. Peeling his own gray cotton shirt, already soaked in sweat from being outside in the boiling cloudless sky. Finn threw his in a pile, without intentionally skating eyes over the sudden array of bare chested men who had joined. Ever since that event with Walker, and the 'punishment' he'd received, the Captain had passed law that no one was persecuted for their likes or dislikes, but that didn't stop him from wanting to not openly stare at anything. Including the fact that the Captain's shirt had done nothing to hide the mountains of muscles that now became clearly visible to everyone; making their arm wrestling competition all the more of a joke. Andy was still pissy, still scrutinizing his every look at other people with a scoff and making some lewd comments in regard to his particular interests. Meaning more often than not it involved letting whoever was near him know what Finn liked doing in his down time. As though Andy would ever understand hat Finn had never even broached the subject of even being with a man, just that he enjoyed their company far more than those of women. He knew he found himself staring at Chris' shoulders, or Piers' incredibly well toned hips and how his fatigues hugged him all too well in their place. It just seemed inappropriate to talk about the particulars with team mates. Maybe after all this, after their conversation Piers and he could go someplace that wasn't work. Someplace where prying eyes weren't always making things so difficult. It wasn't that he didn't want Piers, he did, in the worst ways, but that was pointless since he didn't even know his preferences on anything, let alone if he would even look twice at a man, or Finn for that matter. "First to three gets bragging rights!"

Jerked from his thoughts, the captain dished out positions, watching as he took lead as all good captains did in their positions. Finn had a smile in place, all ready to become the midfielder and get underway, until he realized it must have been he was the only former soccer player because there were only six players to a side, and all of them had every intention of simply beating the ball as mercilessly as they could at one another. A single kick from any one of their players cleared the ball, so staring dumbly, Finn found himself in yet another moment of stupidity. It was Alpha team, since when was anything involving this team normal? Even simple sports like soccer weren't similar. Still it had him laughing, and that was worth it. Completely so. It didn't even matter that the other team, made up entirely of the Captain's Ex-partners, seemed far more versed in the sport particularly when the second goal went in, 0-2. Finn was too busy laughing at the scene before him as Parker and the captain came head to head, colliding into one another. While the captain was much faster, and physically a monster, Parker was the immovable object, and had Jill falling over herself with laughter when their feet collided as she bobbed between them just in time to steal the ball.

Thirty minutes of this continued on, until the final break away. The perfect moment where Finn received the ball almost as though graced by the heavens, and kept it light on his toes, taking it passed the defenders that remained; a man name Grinder, and one he did not recognize in the least, reeling back his calf muscle and wailing it at top speeds into the top corner of the net, blocked only when the dark skinned woman that Chris identified as his partner from a mission in South Africa, nabbed it, coddling it in her arm then taking six steps each exceeding in speed holding the ball forward only but a few steps from Finn where he'd originally took the shot, and punt it. The last thing he remembered seeing was the black and the white ricocheting off his face and nose, a loud crack, and being flat on his back staring up into the sun with blood pooling in his nostrils as everything faded. Play ceased immediately, and Finn couldn't help hearing only the voice of his A.T.L., prying his head off the turf, a chuckle in his voice though he tried to hide it, "You were right kid. Soccer's a blast."

* * *

**I play, so I couldn't help it when the option of BSAA having some fun came up. Anyway was just fiddling around and Finn is good for that. Hope you guys enjoy. Finn gets some time away from work next chapter so whatever you guys would like to see, lets hear it.**


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